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She sits at the window
and takes in the sights.
She unknowingly stares
at the beautiful lights.
She would stay here forever;
if only she could.
She would never leave the window
but she knows that she should.
She's never felt the daylight
upon her feeble skin.
She's never written
or spoken words from within.
She's never felt affection
from the people that made her.
She always looks out the window
because to her, it's a cure.
She's got bruises and gashes
upon her tiresome face.
She will pass away,
someday without a trace.
