Here you go, enjoy
Putting thoughts to paper again. No matter what side of the fence you’re on, I think this applies to all of us right now.
Hark! The solemn chamber, fraught with hopeful dread,
Ye jurors, clad in black, await what lies ahead.
Reminiscent of a witch hunt, is what some do proclaim
Poor old Lucy Letby?
A scapegoat tied in blame?
Within the crowded realm, where justice casts its gaze,
A nurse stands accused, in these tumultuous days.
Whispers travel through the air, a tormentous murmur,
As all await the verdict, an outcome they prefer.
Lucy Letby, a name etched on worried minds,
In anxious hush, they hope, their doubts begin to bind.
Her deeds laid bare, a tale of life and death entwined,
Each juror ponders deeply, with open hearts and mind.
The chamber filled with tension, a somber silent plea,
For innocence or guilt, they must soon decree.
With furrowed brows and weary hearts, the jurors deliberate,
Over testimony woven, and hints of twisted fate.
Oh Lord when will we know