I see you in the shadow of the wind, I hear you at the door to my soul. I tried to make you see me, I should’ve done more.

I didn’t mean to be so harsh, I didn’t mean to Smash Amongst the rubble, My heart lay there too, Like a pane of glass In a million pieces.

In my dreams I remember the day I saw you Bringing joy to a lonely window, The girl in the window, Now only an echo of what Could Hav Be .

I just wrote a confusing poem that makes me feel like I should be chopping onions. Hope you liked it.

It’s a lovely feeling when you walk into a room and everyone abruptly stops talking. I looked around at the people who I called friends; fidgeting and desperately trying to strike up conversation that wasn’t about me.

I never knew what they said about me until it was too late. Our office was huge, but it only took a few hours for the gossip to spread like corona. Last week my Mum had called me, and told me that my sister was in hospital again. I knew why, but my deskshare didn’t.

The favourite ones at the moment were that my sister was dead or a drug dealer. The receptionist was even asking me today what -really- happened.

To be honest, I just hope that my sister’s okay, the fall was massive and she still can’t tell who I am.