Victims of The Scale


My ordination...
To stand for justice,
And weigh on equality,
That is what I was ordained for,
My duty, my destiny...
With my life upon it.
I, the Scale.


Oh! I must need some ointment on my temple,
For the Queen of a man lives there,
The Scale must've jolted the Queen off its temple,
For what a speech was staged,
Grace is upon knowledge and sensibility,
Grief is the voices chained within my physique.
I, the Learned.


I sow and harvest the feeding - yours and mine,
Hands polished, erased are its identity,
Yet from darkness to darkness my calculation rises,
My feeding in blistering plight,
This battle is not of destiny,
In the depth of your comfort stores the soul of my wails.
I, the Layperson.


helpless and naive,
raging and rebellious,
ambitious and aggressive,
worrisome and passive,
Those are our frailty in plurality,
In good they are the fortress.
I, the Community.


the Learned,
the Layperson,
the Community,
Speaking, the same voice.
Looking, the same vision.
Unite.
As the victim of the Scale.