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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The law stands tall in marble halls, Blindfolded, scales in measured hands, Yet whispers travel through its walls Whose weight determines where it lands? Was law conceived to shield the frail, To be a staff for limping feet? Or forged as iron, firm and pale, For strong hands only, cold and neat? They say the law protects the weak But pause, and ask the deeper truth: Who carved its words, who made it speak? The Strong and Mighty not hunger, age, nor youth. Why would the mighty draft a rule That bends their crown, dissolves their might? Why sharpen laws as self-made tool To dim their power, dull their light? The Mighty write laws, the Strong enforce, They judge, interpret, jail, and fine; They ride the law as mounted horse While weak men walk the thorned line. Thus justice limps when titans clash, Files stall, proceedings drift and sleep; But swift it strikes with thunderous lash When weak meets weak there is no hill to keep. Corruption oils the rusted scale, Gold tips the balance, truth grows thin; The poor man’s plea is bound to fail Where bought verdicts quietly win. If law must end this age-old wrong, It must unlearn the rank of birth; No class too weak, no class too strong All equal tenants of the earth. Let strength appear as humble clay, Let weakness rise, made bold and sure; Let law become a common way Where every wound can find a cure. Let conscience sit, not bribe nor fear; Let learned minds refuse to travel The crooked road corruption clears. Till justice serves not power or name But truth alone, exact and plain, The law remains a titled game Where weak men lose and strong men gain.
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