The kettle’s high pitched whistling seemed to only fuel her growing anger, while the tea that was furiously bubbling in it was now as bitter as her tears. Towards him she felt only resentment, but she always sugared his tea so he would not notice. He never did, anyway.
Only, with the sugar that was there was in his tea today, served as it always had been, a little poison had slipped from her vengeful gaze into his to-go beverage.
– Maya Desdemona
It stings.
Frustrated tears pool at my eyes,
Unable to do anything else.
It simmers.
Darkened eyes look away as
Yet another bribe takes place right under the noses of those
Who were once trusted to protect us.
It burns.
Knuckles are bleeding,
Pummeling the punching bag as though
It would chase all problems away.
It boils over.
Knives stick out of those
Who once dared to take advantage of our innocence
Leaving behind empty puppets.
It's empty.
But maybe this emptiness
Will herald better days.
– Arsh
Luminousis 