She did though, in a rather manic manner – taking what’s tragic and placing it right before our judgemental mind’s eye
When black and white just begs to be alright, up all of the night, piercing the trembling a.m. with her most bespoke pen
Soaked in utter hope and lingering glory
And then they came, began to turn the tide, suddenly, quite sprightly, in creating rather serendipitous sedation to coax on through the blasphemous few too many – rotten to the cussing core
Atticus Finch tempestuously takes his seat and treats them all to something akin to the brighter side of their lacklustre minds – shining judicially bright to find an unmatched way to say what we all fail to allow ourselves to see
What’s oh so wrong remains resilient and strong albeit finally, subtly so, meeting him somewhat by the middle – these jurors do twiddle their thumbs, strung out
Enough for now
About to amount to everything when blinded eyes are least suspecting
Tom will go down for this but the movement within is all-encompassing
Seems one glad-ragged man can make a million other brothers smile
When a simple worn and torn out pen gets to say what no-one else gets to see – stringing its intricately placed beliefs on into the next century and far beyond
Soon there can be just one colour, we need to be beautifully blind-sided when it comes to this above all else
If orange can be yellow then why can’t black appear to be as savoury as white?
To kill every single mocking-bird is the right thing to do

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