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.