Given an option between betrayal and her children, she grins with hatred. Not to show dilemma, but to express pity to those who dare question her decision making. No matter how close to home they stand. It is with authority and an invasion of personal space that she re-affirms a recurrence if she is ever on the stand again.
Is it because I said it out loud? That now I quiver in fear of what I cannot fulfil. Is it the resilience of her will and determination to string together a family miles apart? Is it her ability to command and take charge? Is it her ability to disarm with words?
That my arms feel numb.
Unable to reach or strike.
That my legs feel stuck.
Unable to dash OR attack
OR avenge!
Unable to feed off the spoken word
a dishonor to the spoken.
a dishonor to the spoken for!
Is it her ability to disarm without words?
She knows him quite well. A familiar glare that mimics one from her children. And because his is torn between flight and a chilling fear inducing soul search, it seems to encompass hatred and unnerving need to disregard the unspoken.
an obvious bait for the rowdy fish.
a dishonor to the spoken.
a dishonor to the spoken for!
“You terrify me!” his cords struggle
An Aieuda Ludi shaken.
A showman for the thoroughbred.
An imminent luck carrier for the wagers.
A fortune teller for the power hungry
a true horseman for the thrill seeking,
The last of the horsemen of the four factions.
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An academic review of the film adaptation of The Way of the Gladiator [Those About to Die] by Daniel P. Mannix.
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