I stood in line, let the scorching sun beat me down
to give you power, you swallowed it greedily, hungrily.
Now you repose on scented pillows, seeking the relief of your cooled trappings
While I sit at your feet and beg for scraps … I should be so lucky!
This is the price I pay for justice, your justice.
My raggedy pockets hide from your claws searching for every bead of sweat.
I give it freely, forcibly, unknowingly, cheerily, all for your scented existence.
My diseased body falters, no matter… manicured hands tend to your slightly sore wrist
My sweaty armpits and tired smelly feet keeping your wrist glued to your nose.
This is justice, your justice!
Your full pregnant belly eyes me cheekily, speaking a loud hello to my fetid hungry breath.
My foul smell and rumbling stomach offend you, I shy away in shame.
My questioning mind is dulled by your absence; your haughty stare all but silences me
I stretch my aching back, bent by my herculean efforts to let you stand on it,
This is the price I pay for justice?