Daily Report

Morning:
Disheveled
Matted hair from a turbulent night
The angry woman leans over to bite her own arm

Day:
Drool falls in a long sticky stream
Staining the ill-fitting gown
Vacant eyes gaze forward in an unblinking stare
Sometimes her hands shake involuntarily
The restraints rub weeping wounds on her wrists and ankles
Frequently she screams incoherently at everything and nothing
She smells of ***** and infection

Evening:
She delights in having her hair done by the young women on staff
Brightening as they pin, curl, flip, and comb
Next the make-up
Hand-picked shades
From an expensive city boutique
Meticulously applied

Night:
Her face softens as she sleeps.
The moonlight casts a gentle glow,
masking the many wrinkles
Her eyes move beneath the lids
Following a story known only to her