Who is 2Who is 2You ask me, who is 2?Well if I had to explain himIt would go like this I guess.A father, a mentor, and a friendOne you could depend on always and foreverHe'll never abandon youOr leave you behindHe has open armsAnd an open heartWith room in it for every soulIn this world and the nextNo matter what happensNo matter what willHe always wears a smileTypically followed by a laughHis hugs are like his heartWarm and open for anyoneAnd his smile says welcome inThere is nothing like itA ray of sun on a rainy dayA source of cheer in a gloomy worldHe is the source of comfort and loveIn a world full of hate and miseryWell that is few of many wordsThat can describe this fellowOf many thingsThat many call 2He is my mentorMy fatherAnd most importantlyMy constant source of warmth and loveHe is 2He may be the secondBut in my heartHe is forever.
Who is 5?5 you ask.Who is 5?This is what you askWell I suppose he's thisHe is a healer in all traits. But not just of the bodies of the wounded themselves. But the battered souls and broken hearts that reside in them, nurturing them with kind words and gentle hands, he heals them. There is a kind a magic about him that makes every hug feel like it lasts a hundred years.His voice is a source of warmth and compassion, able to calm even the most worried souls, at least those pure enough to hear it. When he speaks, everything seems alright, there doesn't seem to be any fear in the world. Only light and warmth reach the ears and hearts his voice touches. Like the final rays of a summer sun. His laugh is whole-hearted and warm, when he laughs; everything seems to be, wonderful.His touch is as gentle as the summer wind. They say actions speak louder than words, his do not. They are even more delicate and kind. Warm, caring hands soothe even the most troubled soul in a wounded body. At least thos
Small Comforts6 was walking, alone, in the Emptiness, by himself. Why, he was not sure, but it may have had something to do with 1 and 8. But 6, according to 1, was always mixing fact with idiotic ramble. 6 sighed, oh well.He clung to his key, something he did when he was nervous. But it was a small comfort. It was cold and metal. But it was all he had.6 hummed softly to himself as he walked without any real idea where he was going, when he saw something that caught his attention. A house or what was left of it. Normally the striped artist wouldn't have cared about the ruins of an old house. But something told him to go inside, curiosity or just a plain desire to have a set destination, he walked inside.There wasn't much inside the house. It was dark, cold, and the roof had been blown off. Driven by curiosity, the little artist began to look around, peering around every corner of debris and furniture. Till he found something, trapped under a large over turned chair, was a blanket.It was large, s