French justice, a cloak of wear and tear

9 November 2010



Fool I try to catch now what I had let go, haughty mare

Ailments in wailing I cry me a pail so wail as they stare

I go on oblivious to their frowns heeding not their glare

Banshee and ogress I turn, I once little frightened hare


I run in a competition that has no concept left of the fair

My ankles flailing don’t allow me to climb so many a stair

Higher in injustice I rise and oxygen in purity fails my pair

Air I beseech, sweet air, oh I gasp within my hidden lair


I run, reach out but all I reach is nothing but this thin air

I run here, no, wrong place it is there, I cry tear my hair

I seek; know not how to reach within this vile Vanity Fair

Blue white red between grey mirth and such dark despair


Their justice more injustice would once more for us bare

In impunity they carve into their system with such care

Intricate details to make you win any if not all your share

Of misery as they deny you. Fight back? Don’t you dare!




Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s