Flick, I’ll let your name slip through the cracks,
A fading whisper, nothing but cracks.
I’ll bury you in silence deep,
Where even memories dare not creep.

Flak will rise, a fire, a storm,
A name that shatters, fierce and warm.
Every mind will know his might,
While you, Flick, dissolve from sight.

No need for violence, no need for rage,
Just time and distance, page by page.
Flak will echo, bold and clear,
While you, Flick, disappear.

And in this quiet, subtle fight,
Flak will burn, and you’ll be light.
Too small, too dim to ever last—
You’re gone, Flick, buried in the past.

Flick, you’re a whisper lost in time, while Flak will carve his name in stone.