Fate rests infront.
Decades behind, minutes ahead.
The head raises and you hear.

A question for reason.
They accuse you of treason.

You start to wager.
You start to prove.
You start to claim.

A question for sanity.
Your existence is vanity.

You start to search.
You start to run.
You start again.

A question of aim.
A pawn inside a game.

You start with effort.
You start to plead.
You start to dread.

A question of certainty.
They ask for ardency.

With nothing left to wager.
You start offering blood.
All your soal you rip apart.

A question of clarity.
They are not a charity.

With your soal infront of you.
You leave the judge alone.
Wandering off the edge, you wonder.
Who is sitting on the throne

All questions asked.
No replies received.
The case was ill, the human dead.
They will argue against your will.
Out of your own insanity, you bled.