Rumpelstiltskin Reversed — If All the World Refrained from Naming the Name

A pubescent, childish,
ever so needy ego
a small stature
and little hands,
if his little riddle
is exposed,
he’ll jump and
scream and
through the floor
will never
be seen —
So the name
was named
and that was
the end of that game,
but consider the
game reversed
and we all diligently rehearsed
not saying a particular surname,
a name
that indiscriminately,
voraciously and
oh, so blatantly
seeks such fleeting fame
falsely believing such attention
would fill a voluminous void
beneath a very thin hide —
an ego so weak,
it slavishly
craves any mention of his name,
tweak, twitter and tweet.
If for one day, all the world swore
and made finger vows (to and fro,
across land and sea the vow would go)
not to utter for one day
the name out loud,
maybe, just maybe,
a loud, thunderous roar
might be heard,
feet stomping on a bedroom floor,
and the now nameless man
would vanish forevermore.

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