Little girl sits in the corner
locked in a stare.
Arms waiving madly at something
that sadly isn№t there.
Dressed in the day№s best by a nurse
who№s nowhere to be found.
What does she see ?
Maybe she№s looking at me.
Old man is strapped to the seat of his chair
wearing a gown,
shouting and cursing at someone who clearly
Father Time has twisted his mind. The staff says,
іHe№s not well !І
To whom does he speak ?
Maybe he№s speaking to me.
So we keep these people inside these walls,
Their forgotten lives safe from the crowd,
they can№t leave.
Through the doors come people like me,
good-bye to them.
They see a picture few of us see.
They can№t leave.
You№ve left them here for me.