Unbalanced

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One sided stories are like invisible pens dapping in stained jars of ink. Listening to those kinds of stories are like riding on dilapidated magic carpets with no destination in sight. The one who has learned to go silent amidst stories spilled continues to sit still. He observes, sometimes stunned but not perplexed for he walks in his truth. The master manipulator loves this. That is his chance to pull as many souls to his side, tipping the scales in hopes that the one who does not care to explain, lays to ruin.

The tellers of the stories often negate the part they play and spin devious webs that concoct and trap. Believable stories they are because the other side has never been told and for years has let them freely read their books. The stories are so powerfully told that everyone else gravitates and leaves the other lonely. As the scales tip, and more cards are dealt, a grimy picture of the other side unravels, a picture that hails the storyteller and puts a crown atop his head. 

If only both sides could meet in the hall of the grand jury, then we would see paint colors that we have never seen before. Then and only then would we only have the truth and time to face, and they are inevitably the grand dictators. That is why the other does not seek to repay their storytelling by telling his. Time will whip and truth will balance the scales. 

The other knows that sometimes, peace and closure looks like never telling your side of the story at all. The scales may tip, but you shall not. You remain steadfast. 

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