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..