The name rolls off your tongue, and you play with it. New mouth, new teeth, new voice—you can't help it. It reminds you of something—of all those that have gone before. You're so old, you ought to know better; but you never do. You never know when to leave well enough alone, and you say the name again.
The name falls off your tongue and you reach for it. The mirrors reflect each time before, but you still call. You know what's going to happen, and you already travel with ghosts. So many names floating around—you speak one louder to drown out the rest.
The name flees from your tongue, and you follow it. You reach for the falling, ignoring the truth lying there. You see the path that waits, see the promises that will all be broken and made—and you still run forward. You're too young to stop and too old to care.
The name dies on your tongue, and you watch the world fall. You feel like you're dying, but you already know it has happened. There's nothing else you can do—nothing will stop. All is ending but all will go on. You can't help but smile, running to the end—because your unspoken promises drown out the names.
The name waits in your heart, and you bury it deeper. The child grows up and the fairytale ends, and the hero has no choice but to live. You reach for your conscience, to save their souls—you always know how it'll end because they're nothing but ghosts; every name on your lips becomes a death sentence. You bring them along, and they all fade away.
AN: Inspired by the Twelfth Doctor and his habit of repeating Clara's name very often – how when he first regenerated, he simply repeated it – but speaking of all of his companions past, present, and future. Thank you for taking the time to read this! Gramercy, and God bless! 5-27-2015