They say its the worst shit, you ever seen if your dealing with numbers, that add up to this lopsided world, where the favours in tow a little known equation, at the end its all sin.
Two sides to a story, that won't seem to unfold gold plated water, trickles their throat while fairness is futile, the judge is a joke.
Eye in the sky recording the day man in the box, himself he must play clouds fill the rain......as green gets to feed innocent eyes....respect where they've been.
While part of a calendar sits near the wall is there conflict of interest, will some take a fall moment of truth's, stuck tween dark and light 13-1/2.......forever days and longer nights.
~Bentlee~
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Posted: Nov 2011
About this poem:
in respect of those whom............found undue jail sentence.
definition of 13-1/2 = 12 jurors, 1 judge and 1/2 a chance.
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