He knew from a young age
It was destiny
Or that's what they said
Destruction they whispered
Murderer they hissed
You'll kill us all they didn't need to say
They didn't need to. They didn't..
I know he cries
I know. I'm sorry.
They are silent.
It feels the most damning
He cries and he cries
They sniff
What does he have to cry about?
He'll live
He stops crying
Eventually
As much as any of us truly stop
But there are things to be done
And time is motion
And change
What cannot be? He wonders.
What mustn't?
These are two very different questions.
Time is fluid
Names are not
He ignores the knots
The solidity
The fixedness
The whispers he still hears
But they're wrong. They must be. They can't.. It can't
He makes a promise, feeling like he has won something
What is a name to a title chosen?
He won't
He refuses
The whispers don't stop
He never really thought they would