Books
Portals to faraway magic worlds
And time machines to the past and present
Gateways to parallel universes
Made from the bodies of long dead giants
That lived and grew as far as the eye could see
Slaughtered by the thousands
And drenched in the blood of liquid night
In strange characters in rows one after the other
We are the hopes and dreams of the crafter
And the living embodiment of the mind of the user
We are the collective knowledge of a civilization
And the collective imagination of them too
We are the storytellers of eras gone by
And eras yet to pass
We paint ourselves with bright colors
In order to attract the eye of the user
We say what we tell on our backs
But we are dying
Our users ignore and abuse us
There’s so few left to share our knowledge with
And when we can't share our knowledge
We die
Once we die so too dies all hope for a better future