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.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 