#if this is a sonnet then fuck me i guess im too busy to check

[illegiblehandwriting1]

put simply,

We are the ghosts under the floorboards We are the voices in his head We are the whistles of the treetops And the creaks around his bed

We are the shadows in the closet And the eyes along the hall We are the broken friends and family who all scream and shout and call

We are the memories of long ago the terrors of the night We are the footsteps no one left at all We are the reason that he fights

We can measure hugs and words of care We line up shining lives We haunt our blorbo evermore We choose if he survives