The maid cowers before my sharpened wit.

My assistant winces, hearing me speak.

The sisters Scarlet step back, as if hit.

The gate guard recoils, forever meek.

This is the face that the others survey,

the tiredness that wards off spoken words,

a desire to learn rightly conveyed

through bitter sarcasm that they have heard.

It is a front. Of this, they are aware.

All I desire is to read in peace.

Remilia knows, and she takes great care

to put my knowledgable mind at ease.

Sakuya, the best servant one could want,

brings me tea and snacks when they are asked for.

Hong Meiling, deceptive melee savant,

prevents small fry from reaching the front door;

And I have known that I do not always

give credit to Koakuma when due.

As my assistant, she has spent her days

nearby, keeping my asthma attacks few,

Locating specific titles when asked,

taking charge of the organization.

It is not easy, but when she is tasked,

no one can remove her from her station.

Even the Mansion's dirty secret knows

that playing games randomly wrecks my day.

She obeys her sister, and hides from those

who come to call. My, that little Flandre...

In large ways, whether they know it or not,

they help myself and Remilia both

in keeping ourselves clean of life's great rot,

clearing out the obstacles that we loathe.

I am quietly happy that they are

willingly complying with our desires,

but not all of my acquaintances bar

from their minds an invasion very dire.

They say that the judge sees in black and white;

who 'they' are is worthy of omission.

Whenever she shows, raring for a fight,

said darkness and brightness fill my vision.

My bookshelves are where she has set her mark,

snatching my favorite tomes, come what may.

She totals us both with a Master Spark,

claiming aloud: "Gonna borrow, da ze!"

But there have been times when this oddball thief

shows up solely for some conversation;

talking magic with one who causes grief

is an odd means of alleviation,

Yet one that provides an adequate means

of wiling away the afternoon hours.

If you had been present to view those scenes,

you would have beheld me not quite as dour.

To create and solve problems I have stayed,

and for one of these I will never leave:

"Really, why am I constantly dismayed?

Is human friendship so hard to believe?"

Marisa talks a lot of many things,

whatever Gensokyo has to offer.

Her contributions she willingly brings,

the information filling my coffers.

I suppose that as long as we can talk

and my best friend can abide her staying,

at her wanton thefts I'll try not to balk,

lest my inward thoughts I start betraying.

Another day comes, another day goes

as my housemates and former enemy

meet in the wide space where danmaku flows,

where our vast enjoyment is plain to see.

And like clockwork, unravelling my wits,

the shelves have toppled over me once more.

I glare out at the black-white as she sits,

and express indignance like times before:

"I don't mind your uncourteous visits,

but it would not kill you to use the door!"

- P. Knowledge