the hands of the clock turns backwards

i’m holding my sister as she cries

my body sheltering hers

i ache with the inadequacy

the fact that i cannot fix all the myriad

ways that we are broken

creatures of dust, time ticking down

not made to last

this isn’t the way it was supposed to go

i never saw us here

somehow she is the only person who has ever trusted me

it takes a special kind of broken to be

loved by me

a special kind of broken these two

sisters share

how did i become the protector?

when did i grow older?

do they know i’m crumbling inside?

there are fears whose names i don’t

know yet

whose faces are shadowed by the dark

answers have not risen up to defeat them

until then, i’m grateful to be the one holding her as she cries

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