what the courthouse might think…*

i am but a courthouse
a building, nothing more
my worth is but the promise
of justice through my door

so long as she remains
her scales and faith intact
no error, wrong, or scandal
can from my worth detract

though she has suffered some
in misdeeds through the years
she’s worn her blindfold proudly
and veiled few bitter tears

but blindfolds can’t hide mold
or smells that choke your breath
or cancer-causing agents
that spread from life to death

and she’s coughing now
so loud i start to shake
as if there’s little more
than she or i can take

it’s sad, if what i’ve done
if all that i could do
to warn of her demise
was take a life or two

still no one truly listens
they simply say, ‘hold on’
unaware that they, like her
might very soon be gone

*the opinion of a fearful building


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