For Aunt Amy

White walls walk past
Blank, slows for no one
Hissing of machinery
Life for those without

The mother’s instinct
All hearts sink
Waiting for a sign
Wake up. Wake up.

The eyes of innocent
Dry as desert
Fail to comprehend
Wake up. Wake up.

Men with puddles for eyes
Grasp, biting, holding
Anything but hope.
What’s the point?

Caressed by fragile hands
Realizing the Giver
We all let go
For her to sleep.

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