The Lure
She laughs within herself,
pride swelling with each rise
and fall of her breast.
Her evil tongue splitting
in many directions,
it casts poison onto the standby
caught up in the façade
of nuance.
Feeding on the false
implications of “right” and
the God given distinction of being
the only true mogul of understanding and wisdom,
she feeds on the misery of ignorance
borne on the backs of legions of stand byes,
crying unto her for guidance.
Her word is law, her penance
for being so intelligent….
her solace for existing in a world of ignorance.
Give me your ……!
Let me….!
May I…?
She offers….
while all the while damning their ignorance.
The passive look
holding back a pensive smile….
a penchant for knowing just when to speak,
to offer, to shed a tear, to let her lip quiver…
to gently touch your arm lovingly….
beware the siren !!!
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