Four Little Girls with Pigtails Never Grew Up

They are suspended in time. The hands of accrued penance bequeaths the honor of remembrance. But the flame continues to burn with torrents of ashes — darkened with the cruelty of cowards that still divulge the pulpit of opinion.

Nothing learned. Everything lost. The present gives the past reason to be jealous.

The art of shameless pursuits won’t ever tire from over-exertion as long as the willing continue to peruse options of disability.

Four little girls with pigtails never grew up because the country of their birth rejected their identity.

But they knew the words of The National Anthem by heart.

Thank God.

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!