They are the only ones who love me. I am the only one who sees them. Four white walls with a thousand brush strokes each and eccentric personalities like mine. Four who will stay here, forever here. Four lively friends introduced to me by whom is long forgot. In the corner, we tell jokes, but brother is mean and doesn’t like my jokes.
Their stories are vivid. They tell of adventures, perilous and grueling. They’ve gone to places here and places there and smite the color amongst their simplistic integrity and trap the unknown with a clinched hold and never ease their grasp. This is how they create my rapture.
Let one forget his brother, they comfort me with pure faces, each cares for the other never letting go side by side. Stay, stay, stay they whisper when not speaking. They fix.
When I am too detract and too disturbed when brother is speaking, when I am a man among emptiness and a disease, I speak to the walls again. When there is darkness yet they speak. Four who know all my secrets. Four who protect from the rumble and patter. Four whose regard is for me and my thoughts.