maybe in the end it 's the voice that tells the stories more than the stories themselves that matters . i swiped at my mouth and looked at the blood left on my hand . i walked up the stairs as i wiped my sweaty hands on my pants . i spent my silence fighting the urge to grab another cigarette . if thats true then why havent you told the guards ? it admitted only another subtle body . before he could take his seat , before anyone could even think about clapping , the justification took hold of its subject . 