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02-11-2015, 10:24 PM
MIDAS
THE POISONED YOUTH
THE POISONED YOUTH
Again amusement flicks like a dancing flame inside the smothering hue of gold; though there is a firm line laced across my jaw that points down. "Believe me or not, the answer remains true," vocals are unencumbered and well plaided toward masking any edge. I shrug her remark off...and start fixing to turn back to work when she voices rather alarming ideals. Another pause. Both brows rose, surprised that such violent statement would pass her lips. Aye, the lass wanted to see anger? Keep rattling the cage of yon sleeping beast with nonsense words like that.
I turn crown aside to conceal the deepening frown that furrows my previously careless features to darken ever slightly. What fool would, in her words, 'rip something apart' for the sake of unresolved anger? My younger self would've spoken against such thinking -- but I am not a green cur easily bent to sharp note for the lone goal of proving a point. (Even if such remark gives me pause and breaths life into concern.) Yet I stay my tongue until she is well finished.
Elsa's final words are far more receptive, I glance back -- fixing gaze upon her careful work and wondering for a fraction of a heartbeat if previous reply might have been a thing born from wounded pride, or perhaps...a sickness...revenge? Gaze softens, my mind considers its move carefully before answering, "I've witnessed what unchecked bitterness and hate can bring," tone narrows, "It serves no master and will consume the one who yields it," eyes raise, attempting to meet her own,"Forgiveness, discipline, an attentive ear...those are the ventures of a wise heart and steady mind."
Or as my Da would've said, "I do not kill with my body; he who kills with his body has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart." Old words. Back when the world was young.
I turn crown aside to conceal the deepening frown that furrows my previously careless features to darken ever slightly. What fool would, in her words, 'rip something apart' for the sake of unresolved anger? My younger self would've spoken against such thinking -- but I am not a green cur easily bent to sharp note for the lone goal of proving a point. (Even if such remark gives me pause and breaths life into concern.) Yet I stay my tongue until she is well finished.
Elsa's final words are far more receptive, I glance back -- fixing gaze upon her careful work and wondering for a fraction of a heartbeat if previous reply might have been a thing born from wounded pride, or perhaps...a sickness...revenge? Gaze softens, my mind considers its move carefully before answering, "I've witnessed what unchecked bitterness and hate can bring," tone narrows, "It serves no master and will consume the one who yields it," eyes raise, attempting to meet her own,"Forgiveness, discipline, an attentive ear...those are the ventures of a wise heart and steady mind."
Or as my Da would've said, "I do not kill with my body; he who kills with his body has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart." Old words. Back when the world was young.
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