The Judge In My Chest
The Judge in My Chest I put on a robe like I’m holy and wise, But the judge in my chest sees straight through the disguise. I rule in my favor, I bend every law, Then gasp in pure shock at the faults that I saw. I pound on the table, “I’m righteous! I’m right!” While feeding my ego all day and all night. I sentence the world for the things that they do, Then quietly pardon the same things in me too. I call it “bestowal,” I call it “the climb,” But most of the time I’m just serving my slime. I polish my halo, adjust it just so, While hiding the horns that continue to grow. The truth is a mirror I try to avoid, It shows me how much of my love is employed To serve only self with a sweet holy grin, While whispering prayers through a mouth full of sin. I judge all the friends like I’m seated above, Yet starve them inside of the smallest of love. Then cry to the heavens, “Why don’t I feel light?” While blocking the door with my own inner fight. But the Judge never shouts, never s...