I sat next to my father in the courtroom, 

Then they call me to stand, making me feel gloom. 

 Everyone’s eyes were me as I sit down in the wooden chair, 

Looking at Atticus I feel as if I’m in the lion’s lair. 

He smiled at me and called me Ms. Ewell, 

Then proceeds to ask me questions just to be cruel. 

He asks me many questions, but none I didn’t expect. 

Making me repeat myself about how I was inflict. 

I said the answers my father made me rehearse, 

Because if I didn’t my injuries would be much worse. 

Again, he called me Ms. Ewell making me mad,

Oh, how I hated to be mocked so bad. 

I finally snapped and called him out for his rudeness, 

But the Judge stopped me and ignored his lewdness. 

Then he asked me questions about all the bruises, 

I told him the lie, but thought about Father’s abuses.

Atticus kept asking for every detail he could think of, 

But, Father had a year to think of more details than just the behove.

That despicable man supporting that black was getting too close, 

He’s dancing around the truth he and I both know. 

I prayed he wouldn’t say it or else father will be irate, 

And a horrible beating for me would await. 

But my fears came to life and he asked me this, 

“Did your father beat you”, making everything dehiscence. 

It rattled me when he said that, more then I wanted it to, 

For a second I thought of committing a coup. 

I could ruin my father and be free of his drunk wrath, 

But that could backfire on me so I took that idea back. 

Atticus asked me the question again making me scared, 

I started yelling at him denying what he has declared.

Out of all the people starting at me in my fit, 

Father’s eyes boar into me, daring me to admit. 

So when Atticus asked me again how caused me pain, 

I told him, “Tom Robinson”, once again. 

Deep inside me I knew it was wrong to do so, 

But he’s a black man and they are all below. 

And I’d rather it be him being doomed, 

Then all of the beatings from Father be resumed. 

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