12 people decide my fate,

and I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

These are strangers

and not one of them knows me like I do.

I can only tell the truth;

ironic how it does not always cast favor,

when standing next to an intricately spun story.

It's all in the interpretation.

Am I smiling because I have hope

or because I think I will get away with it?

Do I wear a hood over my head

so not every little facial cue is taken into consideration?

No, if I do, then it will appear I have something to hide.

I promise I don't,

but it doesn’t matter does it?

This courtroom seems like one big game.

Excuse me judge, may we take a recess?

The bailiff did not supply me with a rulebook.

My lawyer seems like a smart guy

But it's an easy opinion to form 

when you’re not in the hot seat.

I lose this,

I'm deciding if I would like the top or bottom bunk

They lose this, 

they decide which drink they would like to drown their defeat in.

I’m afraid that by the time I figure out how all the pieces move,

it will be far too late.

So let’s proceed.

It’s very apparent I have no choice.

Caught up in the war on justice;

a timeless struggle between facts and perception.