Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2015
Verdicts flung out even without gavels in their hands
Justice's muse fumbles in the dark
Her scales tipping to one side
As partiality has become more burdensome
One failure makes a person
One flawed idea creates a prison of belief
Everyone acts as the jury
Playing criticism like a big survival game
No winners, all self-appointed judges
Took me a lot of time to finish this and I am not even happy with how it turned out. So much for a third (or fourth) draft.
epictails
Written by
epictails  Manila
(Manila)   
943
     A Watoot, --- and epictails
Please log in to view and add comments on poems