Nursing Home

Old, empty eyes
stare painfully at nothing.
Lost souls
wandering the halls of their cold "home".
Tiny rooms are their prison cells
until they pass on.
Some stay in the rooms
because they can't move their
old, fragile limbs.
Some call for help.

In the halls, some ask for directions.
Some try to escape
while other just sit
in their own painful worlds
remembering the old days
and wishing they weren't condemned
to where they are.

The stench of death in the air
drowns you and takes over your body.
Noises of hurt and confusion
fill your ears until you think
they might bleed.

So many wishes,
so many emotions,
so much abandonment,
so much pain,
so much death.

Wrinkled, frowning, sometimes swollen
faces stare at me
with the hope that I can help them.
But I can't
and it hurts.
It hurts not only because of my own pain,
but because I feel theirs also.
The pain of lost loves,
regrets, and apologies.
The confused frowns,
the unheard cries.
The tortured souls showing in their eyes.