She ventures amongst the living but momentarily
Less than thrice within as many days
Excuses abound to validate and justify
Only the necessities of life
Account for the occasional contact with humankind
Otherwise, she paces up and back with questions
Hesitation and eventual submission to nothingness
Sunrise, sunset, dawn to dusk and round again
Creativity is null, absent, escaped with activity
Ideas suggest a well-maintained mind in working order
One wonders to what extent however, without live stimulation
Or the true health of what is current
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