My mind fills with a cacophony of struggle:
Why Morgan? so wrong / but it is.
Not fair, why us? / It is.
She was so fine had so much yet to give / it is.
We will never see her children, we won’t feel her soft hand on our faces as we die / it is.
Stubbornly, insistently, incessantly I want to keep crashing against the rock of WHY?
How can this horrific murder be the destiny of Morgan Harrington? / It is.
God help us!
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