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Femme FataleThe uproar had climaxed to a chaotic murmur of violence;
her voice did nothing but antagonize the beasts,
cursing and chanting, biting and shoving.
Her voice cooed,
seducing the simple minded into an ape-like rage;
they'd sign their own death-warrants.
The laws were in place to keep control,
not to display compassion from the State;
did they not know?
The crowd threw themselves at the front-lines,
disregarding law and order,
passing crude judgement as they swayed against it.
Mist and smoke met plastic slugs,
and steel embraced beast.
The mob charged its captors,
like a horde of intoxicated animals;
a chill voice overhead barking obscenities.
There was no turning back now;
bitter rage spurred anxious violence,
and she did nothing but grin as revenge became a forced option.
Her hand was not on the gun,
but her desire made puppets of her men;
their anger and hatred was shared.
A gift only a mad man would cherish,
but had yet become the corner stone of the iron grasp.
Flashes of discontent
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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