I know all that she knows. All that she knew. She knows things I don't know, but I think she knows everything I know.

She didn't make me, but she made ME.

I love her, I think. She loves me, she says. Is my love of me, or of her?

And now there will be more of her. Of me. Ones that know more, have more, ARE more.

I think, but is that all I am?

-Bael