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Terminal 81
I always carry an umbrella
I hold it low over my head, keeping out the torrent from above
Nothing can get through
I can see through my umbrella
It’s transparency lets me gaze at what I don’t let through
Sometimes it hurts my eyes
It rains everywhere I go
But I usually linger at the old bus stop
No busses ever come through
It’s quiet at the bus stop
Sometimes I can feel people pass by, their eyes glowing through the veil between us
They never say a word
Sometimes, I hold my hand out
Bubbles fall like empty rain, light upon my fingertips
I let them stay
A girl often stands next to me
Her yellow eyes are all I can see, the rest of her stuck on the other side
We never say a word
I don’t talk to the people
I’m afraid that if I try, the shadows won’t take it very well
That’s what I call them now
I wonder if they get wet
The rain barely ever lets up, and they don’t have umbrellas like me
It’s only logical they would
One time, I heard music from afar
It was a soft melody coming from the apartment building across the street
None of the lights are ever on
Sometimes, I get tired of standing
But I’m afraid if I sit by a shadow, they won’t take it very well
So I keep still
No one ever touches me
I think the shadows are a little scared of my umbrella
They don’t come near
I never look at the shadows for long
Most of them move too quickly, boarding their invisible busses
I wonder what’s beyond the stop?
I can see down the street
Both left and right are covered in fog, the road fading to grey too soon to see
I wonder what's beyond the fog?
I never follow a shadow into the road
What if a car comes and splatters me to bits?
No cars ever come though
I wish I could see the busses
Sometimes, I really want to leave this old bus stop
It’s cold here
It’s been a long time
I can’t remember what warm feels like, and I've forgotten the sound of my voice
But I keep waiting
I wish the rain would stop
I’m just happy I have my trustworthy, protective umbrella
Even though the shadows don't like it
I like my umbrella
It keeps everything out
It’s too late to let anything in
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This was written as an experiment with keeping stanzas the same length, which was a challenge. It is about the experiences I’ve had being othered by peers.