The Trial

A poem exploring a court trial

Let the trial commence,
With no pretence,
So they said,
Or so I was mislead,
I sat in the booth,
My burden of proof,
One way glass,
They’ve come for mass,
One sinner to the sky,
One sinner less to die,
They say God is judge,
This ‘God’ holds a grudge,
He looks at me with curled lip,
A gun at his hip,
Ready to fire six,
Send me on the river Styx,
With no coins for the ferryman,
Part of their great plan,
For alone I shall wander,
Searching for  yonder,
To find the one to cleanse me,
Then I can be free,
I will fly high,
Never to die,
Never to die,
Never to die,
this court is a lie.

In my defence,
We may end and dispense,
This show trial,
Of which you are in denial,
I cannot be condemned,
Not until we transcend,
And on my deathbed,
I shall know in my head,
I repent,
I repent,
I repent,
This court is too late,
For God shall decide my fate.