Summer Storm

O summer storm, I hear your howls.

Your cries for help that I hide from.

Your tears fall and blow,

Through the light,

To pelt my window, alert me of your fright.

O, summer storm, your tears and cries subside.

I imagine you like me—silently crying slowly in bed,

Depressed and [illegible word].

O, summer storm, don't leave me now.

I need your company, you soothe me, you know?

I still hear your sniffles, from under your blankets.

Still our tears trickle, yours pure, mine once-red.

Body

I lay in bed, getting up a struggle.

When I do I move oddly,

Walking into the walls,

Vision blurry, head spinny,

I feel the toll.

Yet U don't care about my body—

That's why it has scars.

It's not even my own,

Not this headache, hunger, thirst.

So what if I'm tired—unable to focus, always drifted?

It could be much worse.

If what my mind sees was true—if I did what I yearn to,

I would be dead, or much, much worse.

Quality of a Human LLM

I write well, I presume, and they say.

Yet it comes too easy—all cliché.

I write well, but it means nothing—

Just the output of a husk-of-a-human LLM.

There is another, longer story that I wrote this day as well, but not can't copy it down from my notebook right now and... it also has gore and stuff so idk if suitable for the Shard. I'll do a CW if I do post it. It'll just be the next post, if I do.

- Lily