She is surrounded by white walls
That only add
To the odd feeling
Of the fluorescent lights beating
Down on her head.
There is no sun,
Only chairs
And the thin wall
Separating her from her father.
Her father
A man
Who appears to have been
Strong willed
Until he was confined
To the small bed
On which he lies
Hooked up to a machine
And unable to speak.
His eyes are closed,
Thinner than he ever was,
He looks . . .
Weak,
Feeble even.
She digs her head deeper in the book,
Separating her from the other people in the room,
From the thoughts that haunt her.
It doesn't matter
What the words say,
It's the only thing she has.
She clings on to the book as if
It was her father's life.
On a thread
She can't help but take a deep shaky breath;
Breathing is the only thing keeping her from
Crying
All she can do is keep breathing.