A Poem Dedicated to That Promising Young Talent, Triple H

We are all just pieces of stars

Billowing about the universe,

With no direction home.

Yet among us there is one,

Who may tear us from the tyranny

Of an ancient authority figure,

A villain clad in a gangster suit,

Wearing the skins of the vanquished beneath

And possessing an Irish surname.

Thank you, Based Haitch.

You somehow lead the revolution

While being part of the problem.

Everyone fears you,

For they know you will trade your sledgehammer

For a shovel

So that the fresh earth can be thrown upon their graves.

Let it be known that roses bloom

From the funeral dirt,

And from every end

Comes a different beginning.

Yet you marshal your forces

While serving the lich king,

Having taken his daughter to be your wife.

Little does he know

That his time will come.

And like the others, he will be buried

To never rise again.

There will be a new demon king,

There will be huggers and Realest Guys,

There will be ginger Canadians,

And apollonian heroes.

So I will stomach a Triple H Championship run

In the late year 2016,

If it means that the NXT revolution cometh.

Praise ye, Based Haitch

We are waiting for your new era.