Those who are unknown, but not in all universes.
Sit down in the chair and tap the button.
Everything comes to life, the screen flashes on.
We are forever strong thanks to the internet.
Those with many names.
He creates a book out of memories.
Of the various days gone by.
I’m not sure if he even remembers me anymore.
The hidden, true value in society.
He stands in front, to be prosecuted by all.
But he turns idiocy into understanding.
Approving of hierarchy, he reaches past boundaries.
The olden day philosophers and preachers.
Those who leave a small mark on any they encounter.
He has made small, but firm connections with almost all in the room.
The one who is first told, the one who all wish they hadn’t burdened.
I understand that this is crazy.
An almost unheard of line of thought.
But I believe it suits the two of us.
There can only ever be one in every lifetime.
She is the only of her kind, a life swordswoman.
Ancient rituals kept to heart she cuts through every predicament,
The result of mismatched streams of life.
Once long ago, it was born.
On my head — forever — it shall be adorned
The hair on my scalp; The brain in my head,
The infamous few.
Always present, I never truly realised what they did.
One day I will sift through the pigsty of memories in my head
And I will thank them properly for what they hid.
No longer existing in our world, one of a kind.
A god among women. A genius to most.
She stands small, although tall. Opinion in mind.
She dares not cross any boundaries without proper research.
