Isn't it beautiful how there are infinite versions of everything?
There are so many different worlds, I have lost its count.
There is a world in which only I exist,
I sometimes mumble lullabies
I sometimes shout songs in the shower,
Because this version is only mine,
Nobody else would see me, right?
I tap on my feet,
Make paintings with the tip of my fingers in thin air.
I tell myself whatever i want to hear.
There is also a version in which only you and I exist.
You can imagine anything in this, in our world,
And there would still be a possibility that it exists.
Isn't that beautiful?