I Was Content With My Fort

In my ageless years have I fortified my doors
I realize that it may just be my own thoughts that matter
I watch masses rally in my backyard
As I show them my contract
Because I was content with my fort

I sweep up glass from stupidity
And dismiss the mess as it has been from broken windows
Caused by those who pronounced a theme of escapism
But I was content with my fort

As I hurt this mob and try to recall my play of glass shards
I question what truth has right to be valid
They try to reach my fingertips
But subconsciously I disable movement
I realize a fort as true as Frederica is brought by age
My lonely fort’s door has fallen to traders

But this eye will always be my past’s,
Is justification’s meaning infinite?