Ancient Justice with translucent
blindfold,
frozen in time by gorgoneion gaze,
your power derives from what you now
hold:
unbalanced scales with a still
sharpened blade.
A man with no shoes walks by with a
hitch.
His arms are covered in eagle tattoos.
He reeks of cheap vodka; gives a quick
twitch
and softly hums 'bout the red, white
and blue.
A man in a suit with gold-lined pockets
drives his new Audi down that very
street.
His collar is stained with lipstick
secrets.
but for the right price, none know that
he cheats.
In the circle of life, Death shall
prevail.
He'll keep the blade sharp but balance
the scale.