Permanent Wilting Point

A place of ends, of groans and slopes
Of pills in little envelopes
A TV blares at mismatched chairs
A room of wishy washy stares

If they only knew how much they'd paid
To sit and stare, to lie and fade
And dream of gardens in the sun
Accomplishments and treasures won

But was it real, and who am I?
What time is it? I can't see the sky!
Thoughts come now wrapped up in fuzz
And sounds drowned out by eardrum buzz

Grandchildren come to smile and look
Then leave with not a notice took
They listened when their mother said,
'Your nan's no longer in her head'
'We didn't even want to come!'
'Well it's over now, your duty's done.'

Nan shuffles back to that grim hall
Where ureic vapours coat the wall
The smelted fare of tiny tots
Is fed to her at timed slots

The strangers here are also old
Where life and death are both on hold
All corners turned and none to turn
Now for the final drop they yearn