this infection

I am one of the haunted here.
I walk down the hall with my
dead face on
and grasp at the sides of the walls.

It gives me something to hold on to.
This flatness eats away at me
until I am weak
in its wake.

Oh how the silence grows.
It really goes to show just how
desperate you would have to
be just to get here.
It is too quiet, and we all wear the same
dead look in our eyes.

And we don't acknowledge each other
as we walk by.

But I myself am the queen.
I am the one whom the elements call
with a shriek. See how I
twist the bare wires to form
a perfect heart.

It beats when it's placed in your hand.
They do not understand that
I am the one who appears by
your bed and in the mirror.
I am kept on the shelf

but I am here for something else,
and I grow as dead as the ones
I am near.

Royalty in a locked ward,
there is something in my eye.
Oh I am alive but I am
not pieced together quite right.

Something has to be done
or I'll never get out of this place.