Justice, she looks tattered and battered, it seems
Her genitals ravaged by vice
Her eyes worn out from might

But she has a smile sown into her heart
That a scythe or tongue cant reach.
But she has a little fire stoked in a nook
That a prying eye cant breach.

Justice may be nude and appears forlorn
But she is fed by the random
And made strong by her captor's hubris.

You can read my short stories and poems on my website, and more of my other work here on Medium.