I've Gone Before Judge's Since Age Nine

they sat up there high and clean, robes that reeked of power and I stood down below, a kid, hands in pockets or chained behind my back. since nine, it was always the same— the faces changed, but the eyes, they stayed cold as stone. I learned young not to look for mercy, not to plead, just nod and listen to them talk about me like I wasn’t there, like I was dirt, a problem they had to sweep away. smoke breaks behind the courthouse, I watched men in suits laugh, their cigars thick in the air. they didn’t see me, or maybe they did and didn’t care. since nine, I never knew the rules, but the rules don’t know me. I walk in and out, just waiting for the time I won’t walk out at all.