It feels like a trial.
Like everyone knows you're guilty
And yet they still want to hear you defend yourself
Because they still want to know
For whatever reason
"Do you like your pain?", They ask.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"So all of this... is what you want. Like you don't even want to get better."
"Why do you keep feeling sorry for yourself? You know it's not getting you anywhere."
"Yeah. I do know that. But I don't know how to get out of it."
"It's so easy."
"You can't possibly know how difficult this has been for me. For 4 months --"
"Stop making excuses, whether or not you spent the last 4 months feeling like **** doesn't mean a **** thing. You did that all on your own. And yet you are refusing help."
"Because I still believe I can do this myself."
"And how well has that worked?"
"Should we call a witness?"
"NO. Please no. I'm begging you."
The whole court stares at me
The witnesses are in sight, waiting to place the blame on somebody...anybody
I can hear thunder outside the courthouse.
It's about time we had a storm.
"Please don't call a witness.
I can tell you everything
And you'll know that it's true because nobody will object saying that I'm wrong. This isn't that kind of case.
But they do not need to answer for my crimes, nobody here does except for me. The person who committed those crimes. Justice... right?"
I have told this story so many times
I might as well start crying again
I feel like the witnesses won't even defend me. I don't give them a reason to
I don't even say their names
Even if I keep someone anonymous
The truth will come out
And everyone will know
But it won't solve anything
And I will continue to feel like I'll never be happy
Because this trial... has changed my life
I guess it still is
Because it doesn't feel like I've even left the stand.
Guilty... until proven innocent.
— The End —