Once upon a time in a courtroom not so far away,
Where echoes of justice danced in the fray,
A judge with spectacles, wise and austere,
Peered over the rim, his voice crystal clear.
“For most of us,” he declared with a sigh,
“The law is the law, no questions to pry.
A steadfast companion through thick and through thin,
A beacon of order, where fairness begins.”
But oh, how the laughter erupted like thunder,
As politicians, cloaked in their charm, pulled asunder,
With winks and with nods, they spun tales like silk,
In a world where the truth was as thin as warm milk.
With pockets lined deep, and intentions unclear,
They danced ‘round the statutes, their motives sincere,
“Why follow the rules?” one slyly did tease,
“When bending the law is a breeze, if you please!”
The gavel came down, a sharp crack in the air,
As the judge raised an eyebrow, caught in despair.
“Is justice a puzzle, where pieces don’t fit?
A game played by few, while the many submit?”
In this courtroom of shadows, where whispers took flight,
The scales of fair balance trembled in fright.
For while the law stood tall, a monolith grand,
It seemed but a suggestion, a flick of the hand.
Surprise washed over the faces in rows,
As the truth of the matter began to expose,
That in politics’ theater, the rules were mere play,
In a courtroom far, far away, they would sway.
So here’s to the judge, with his glasses and frown,
In a world where the honest are often cast down.
For in tales spun of power, where justice may roam,
The law is a compass, yet rarely a home.
