JUDGMENT HAS A FACE
From behind a door, walking down a street, who are they?
They wander around, they look without a friendly sound.
With paper and pen, not a friend as they may smile but pretend,
Watched you are as you walk, speak, examined over a way you dress.
Judge me with your thoughts but what is there to see in you?
I am judged by those whom I never again see, strangers, some family.
Judgment has a face, not the same as it changes from day to place,
We are judged with the rotation of our world, travels with the wind.