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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As I walk through the market in the early light I see the vendors and the buyers in a constant fight I see the goods and the prices change every night I see the scales and the weights that are never right The vendor claims the scales are his only heirloom The ones he got from his father along with his doom The ones that make him wealthy with their deceit The ones that give him an edge with their cheat The buyer cries the scales are his only nightmare The ones he faces every day with his despair The ones that take his voice with their spite The ones that leave him no choice with their might The goods sigh the scales are their only prison The ones they endure every time with their submission The ones that seal their fate with their flaw The ones that steal their joy with their law The prices moan the scales are their only master The ones they follow every moment with their disaster The ones that set their value with their whim The ones that deny their worth with their dim The market is a mirror of the world of woes and wonders A world of broken scales and unfair measures A world of broken people and unequal pleasures A world of broken dreams and unfulfilled treasures But I am not the market, I am not the broken scales I am not the broken people, I am not the broken dreams I have a choice and a voice and a chance A choice to fix the scales and the measures A voice to speak and settle gender scores A chance to show dignity for gents and mses End the home's scolds with a song We r'all human, we crave a plate of meat and féta cheese.
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