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 !!!