Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Brianna Ghey

Black and white typed cruelty,
presented by stuffy mid life crisis time bombs.
They wouldn’t see her,
wouldn’t let her rest.
A child,
her name defended by those left behind.
A tornado of typed, torrid accusation tears through the fields of mourning flowers,
a child’s memory, chased by shadows,
pitchforks and torches.

Her only crime was being brave enough to be herself.

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