You pictured yourself as a walking chaos, a storm of ambiguity
A weathercock not knowing
Which direction to point
You described yourself as someone
Who never knew his true name
Always walking, always searching for what he was really called
You said you were someone who lost
His shadow, like Peter Pan
Or maybe it’s the other way around
You are the shadow without a flesh
Confused, without dimension, without a heartbeat

I thought so too. Maybe you are
All the things you thought
And maybe something more.

We all learn to read humans ever since
We discovered that fire burns and
Cold stings. There is a difference
In feelings, in interactions, in discourse
Just like every person is entitled
To his own goods and bads.
I look into your eyes and recognize
An indescribable majesty
You are darkness in form, like the black ink
Tattooed on your arm, trying to portray
What your heart really feels
I stay deciphering you, like a book
Despising to open its covers
But wanting to be read

I wish you can see yourself
Wearing my eyes.
The way I am in awe of every little
Atom in your body and how
Your nerves intertwine with each limb
You are beautiful. You are a song. You are art.

You were all the things you thought
And definitely something more.

A poetry by Snaggleteeth in admiration for Bloanslitte during their adventure in the wrecks of Masa.