One day, years ago,
A certain life was brought into this beautiful world,
Where she laughed and played
Without a care,
And even once cut her own hair.

A bossy attitude,
She did possess,
Where she never much liked
Being forced to wear a dress.

Even in old age,
She'd go on nice walks,
Where she'd talk and talk,
Until her bad knee told her to stop.

Now she wears a dress that needs tying in the back,
While she lies in wait for her leave from this hellish world,
As functional as a slowly dying clock.

Words fail her,
So she feebly raises her hand,
And wishes for no more
Than to simply regain the ability
To speak, smile, and laugh,
Like she could back in the day,
Before fate staked its claim.

What is the point
In living a life so full,
Only to end up empty
Once the final tick-tock has passed?

***

12/07/2017