Inequity

On that midnight hour, when only the nocturnal roamed,

The compromise was finalized,

In a masked face the messenger delivered the last batch,

In a black briefcase,

The contents served one purpose,

To FRAGRANCE the STINKIEST of crimes, ‘MURDER!

The weary looking judge adorned in ‘justice’ regalia,

Took the judgment seat looking worn-out –probably-,

Probably from counting the contents of the black briefcase,

Here the deal had to be sealed,

“The accused is hereby found ‘not guilty’,

Since the evidence adduced by the prosecutor is doubtful,

And has failed the beyond reasonable doubt test.”

‘Dooh!’ The judge ponded the gavel, case closed, ‘justice served’,

Courtesy of the black briefcase,

In a country where ‘Justice is served’ to the richest bidders,

And the courts, which are but the only citadel of the poor,

Are rigged against them,

Then our country has unfinished business.

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