I know, I’m not supposed to swear. Mom says it’s not “ladylike”, but who the hell wants to be ladylike anyway? I’d rather be the bear. Oh dear, Did I just go there too? Guess I’m over zipping my lips and holding my tongue and tripping over socially awkward apologies. The news is all sharp angles and broken bottles, Molotov cocktails hurled through windows while we slept. The world has gone mad, drunk on promises of cheap eggs and retribution. They mean to quiet us, shove us down on mattresses keep us so very small. But we don’t go quietly into that good night - Dylan Thomas taught us well. We will rage, rage against the dying of the light and above all, We won’t let those motherfuckers get us down.

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