There's no way this is possible.

But here she is,

standing in front of me;

her breath rank with formaldehyde.

Her eyes are cloudy and child-like,

peering straight into my face.

Boring; into my countenance

With a horrid expression.

I don't understand,

this isn't supposed to be possible.

She's standing right there.

She's staggering towards me

like a drunken beggar;

still dressed in a cheap paper gown,

Asking for help.

I don't understand, she's supposed to be dead..