he slinks through the shadows, wispering in peoples ears, spreading messages, stories, passing from lips to ear, hidden behind hands,

"he tells the best stories"
"he's so funny"

the words tumble out his mouth, faster and faster, a rushing river of need to say, of get it out, loosing control, saying it to any ear near him, to anyone who will react, who will hear his cry

"I didn't want to know that"
"why'd you tell them that?"

listening ears turn away as the words twist, become mangled and ugly, things that should be forgotten but are engrained, stories of when he went to far, almost fell, almost lost his thrown

"keep it to yourself"
"what's wrong with you"

but the words keep coming, they need to be heard, to be shared, to be listened to, he needs someone to hear his story because maybe if he says it enough, if enough people listen, he can be free


he stands alone in a dark room, no more whispered words, no more passing secrets, no more truths spilled, he talks to empty ears, tears on his cheeks

"it's not enough"