A Jacobin (Zack Johnson)

I sit on my chair and take in the wondrous sunrise.  The wood of my seat, intricately carved through the sweat and toil of my ancestors, creaks with every rhythmic sway.  A smile sits upon my face, seemingly plastered on. As I gaze upon my beautiful city of Paris, my heart seems to become weightless.  It carries me up into the air, coming to rest on the cloud that is success.  For that is what has been accomplished. Success.  For too long, my grandfather, my father, even I have suffered under the tyrannical thumb of arrogant nobility.  Our profits have been stolen, our base virtues violated.  We have been looked down upon, our intelligence mocked by those who carry so very little of their own.  Yet, no more.  Our savior, our God, our Revolution has saved us.  It has eliminated those who used to eliminate us.  It has stuck back at a regime consisting entirely of oppression and hatred of the unprivileged.  I praise the valiant souls who have made this happen.  I praise the courageous hearts who have returned to the people their own identity.  I praise the heroes who rebel for what they believe in.  After the recent massacre of political prisoners, some may question their methods.  Some may say that they took the lives of innocent people.  However, I disagree.  If that is what it takes to obliterate any trace of man who does not see the light of the Revolution, let it be done.  For the good of our nation outweighs suffering of a few people tenfold.  The Republic must never die. Vive la France!