Justice: My Imaginary Friend…#Poetry…#Baltimore

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Disclaimer: I am not a poet! I wrote this poem for a poetry contest on Scribophile. However, I ended up missing the submission deadline so I thought I would post it on here, so the work put into it doesn’t go to waste! The prompt was “My Imaginary Friend”…I hope you all enjoy it and don’t forget to leave your thoughts in the comment section

Justice: My Imaginary Friend

She calls to me at bedtime,

When her skin is shrowded

By the Darkness of the falling night.

Justice is her name.

She is my truest friend

And my most dangerous enemy.

Her voice is pure and kind

Like the sweetest taste of honeymelon

From my childhood dreams

But her face is twisted out of form

And her hair is matted

With the flesh and blood of our innocent youth.

Tonight, she cries over the bodies in the street

And she throws herself, weeping,

Into the fires of social unrest.

After she burns, she stands next to me;

A weeping, fiery mess.

Together we walk

Down the middle

Of a Baltimore street

And as we walk,

They reach for her;

Both sides certain that she is their patron.

Yet she shuns them

Becuase she knows no truth but her own

And she is no friend to those who blaspheme her.

“They are not my own.” She whispers

And I advert my eyes from the condemned

As she leads me back to my blistful rest.

So when they tell me

That justice is dead,

I will call them “liar”

For she is my imaginary friend;

Living both within and without

Of my most vivid dreams.

She judges without prejudice

And she loves without mercy

But her blade is sharp and hungry for the blood of the unjust.