The Mystery of Maycomb

Surrounded by four walls which shield me from public speculation

Freedom but a distant memory
The constant sound of judgement filling the air
I am a mystery
I am a heathen
I am a monster
I am but a captive of the myth you have created
Rumors which have become equivalent to reality loom over my head
My want for freedom has settled, like the dust incasing framed memories on my mantel
The leaves start changing as fall approaches, I begin to wonder if maybe I am a monster
The flicker of the fire remind me of life and happiness, something I have not felt in a long time
My house is in the eye of an ever swirling storm, sitting silently and resolutely
Howls of hatred and fear and confusion rage outside
But I am safely tucked away
Lost in memories of what used to be, content to stay in their comforting embrace
The hope that I once had is fading away
Seen as no more than a shadow hanging over Maycomb

Slowly fading away into a distant memory

Yet, would being forgotten in this hateful world be a bad thing?
Immediately knowing my answer, I get up to close my curtains.