The Exit Sign

The Exit sign is there
In bold neon
but still,
she can’t find
a way out
of her wrinkled skin.

Her mind no longer
Capable of guidance
She only has her will
And the will of the hands
that push her,
To move her across
The final page.

Ashes fall from her clothing.
Already cremated
and sifting like dust
through the wheels of her chair
leaving faint traces of
The life that was.

The neon sign reads 'exit'
But her mind knows,
It’s not the way out.