The Forgotten Frame

A little girl sits in a corner, locked in a stare,
her eyes fixate on a world that isn’t there.
What does she see, when she's looking at me?
A vision, a ghost, or a mind set free?

Waving arms madly, at shadows unseen,
reaching for something that could have been.
Grabbing at air, as if it could heal,
a sadness so deep that it almost feels real.

Shouting at figures that aren’t around,
her cries fill the room, an echoing sound.
“Forgive me,” she pleads for the noises she makes,
as if these voices are all her mistakes.

So we keep these people behind these walls,
where silence echoes down endless halls.
They’ve forgotten the world outside this place,
where life moves on at a different pace.

The picture they see is framed with bars,
a stolen view, no glimpse of stars.
Trapped in a world that’s cold and small,
where no one listens, and shadows crawl.

What lies beyond this painted frame?
A world she’s lost, a life with a name.
But here she sits, in her corner alone,
a little girl whose story remains unknown.

The bars may steal the view from her eyes,
but in her mind, a whole world lies.
Perhaps, beyond this locked-up stare,
she finds a freedom none can compare.