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Burgundy

In ruby-hued satin, she pirouettes alone, Her form a silhouette against the tone Of evening's blush, where shadows softly play, Amidst the burgundy that wraps her frame at bay. With every step, the fabric billows wide, A skirt of old-money elegance inside, Yet her bare skin glistens like polished stone, Ethereal, untainted, utterly her own. Her arms, entwined, create a pose of grace, A Botticelli vision in a modern space, As if the nymphs of ancient lore had come, To dance and twirl, unbound by mortal thumb. Time stands still in this suspended scene, Where art and life entwine, a sanguine dream, Of freedom's fleeting nature and its hold, On hearts that beat within a living mold. She is a vision born of color, light, And the intoxicating thrill of unbridled might, A fleeting moment preserved in embered thought, Of a woman bold, in radiance untaught.
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Two Polarising Figures

I've grown increasingly weary of being caught in the crossfire of debates between supporters of two polarising figures. On one side, there's a man who strikes me as flamboyantly effeminate, yet he harbours a vicious streak that belies his outward appearance. On the other side, there's an individual who resembles an ogre - not just in his brutish demeanor, but also in his tendency to gain excessive weight. The constant back-and-forth between their followers has become utterly exhausting.




At times, I find myself wondering if these people truly understand the depths of my frustration. Do they comprehend the extent to which I'm willing to go to put an end to this incessant bickering? I've even contemplated demonstrating my physical prowess, perhaps by showing them just how easily I could break their necks if pushed too far. Yet, it seems they deliberately steer clear of provoking me to that point, perhaps sensing the danger that lurks beneath my calm exterior.

As for the feminine man's attempts at viciousness, I must admit that I hold them in very low regard. His snide remarks and underhanded tactics may work on others, but they fail to faze me in the slightest. I see through his facade and recognise his cruelty for what it truly is - a desperate attempt to compensate for his own insecurities.

On the other hand, the ogre-like individual's belief in his own toughness is equally laughable. He may think that his sheer size and brutish appearance make him an unstoppable force, but I know better. Beneath that layer of fat and bravado lies a man who is just as vulnerable as anyone else. His attempts to intimidate me with his supposed hardness only serve to highlight his own fragility.

In the end, I've had quite enough of being dragged into the petty squabbles between these two camps. I long for the day when I can escape the constant barrage of insults and arguments, and live my life free from the burden of their rivalry. Until then, I'll continue to bide my time, waiting for the opportunity to break free from the shackles of this endless debate.

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