A crime was committed inside my head,
the killing of my connection with my source and fate.
And I am, as always, the usual suspect.
I have no clue if I am wrong, and my alibi is not that strong.
Found guilty of the charge in my own court,
without defense, I’m the prosecutor and the judge.
Sentenced, I’m imprisoned for a long time
in a dark and messy space that is my mind.
There is no bail, appeal, or parole—
just do my time and atone for my sins.
Rehabilitated from my own being,
I will face my death, then I’ll be free.