My sister, my pal

And I’m only a helpless observer who feels phantom ache when she’s stabbed. I really feel his ache, despite the fact that it’s so effectively hidden. I understand it as certainly as if we had been cast from neighboring lumps of clay. Yet, day after day, she succeeds in turning this fragility into energy. She seems her within the eyes and forces her to turn into a weapon. His energy. Sometimes she overreacts…