On Trial

(Note: I wrote this piece for a contest on another site so it's not very typical of a subject I would write about and a little rough around the edges. I really enjoyed writing it though and wanted to share it with you guys.)......

If eyes could reflect
The story of your life,
Then on the stand was a novel
Of purity and virginity
Where innocence sufficed.

I looked for the words
To set him free,
And I stood up confidently;
Despite the overbearing burden
In opposition to common sense.
I pleaded the jury to my side,
Presenting the truth in evidence
To sway their minds.

Sympathizing with my client
On the stand,
Holding his hands together
And flexing his jaw.
Fits of fidgeting and fighting
Off the nervous tendencies
Preceded by the possibility
Of the prosecution proving
Him guilty.

I'd calmed him down
As I introduced him around
To the jury and to the people.
He was gratified and cracked a smile
As I removed the doubt surrounding
His innocent demeanor.

Guilty rumors stirred in the air
As I finished my exam
And sat in my chair.
He looked at me longingly,
Wanting to leave.
He was scared of the storm
That I could no longer protect him from
As I informed the court
That I was done with the questions.

-------------------------

If eyes could represent
Possibility
Then there was cattle on the stand
To pursue relentlessly.
Shaking in his boots
And tattooed in fright.
Terrified of my ability
To show the jury I'm right.

Tearing down his
Emotional waterfall
Of sickening self pity
And exposing exactly
What the jury expected to see:
A man overrun with remorse
And a man that was painfully guilty.

His sweat spoke stories
Of inconsistency,
And the odor pouring out
Was foul with doubt.
His eyes were windows
Through the shell of insecurity
Where his false story
And his fake character
Found sanctuary.

The jury took on a lean
And seemed to sway,
In favor of my manipulation
Of this sorry imitation
On display.
Guilt had graced his name
As a result of my persistent blame today.

I took my seat
In the wake of
The imminent defeat.
Content and pompous
As I turned my head
And saw my counterpart
Sitting there.
The similarities became apparent to me,
And I was startled as I looked up to find
That the room I was sitting in was completely empty.

I had a toothbrush in my hand
With the other propped up on the sink.
Dingy tiles on the wall
And a broken mirror looking back at me.
I was in court every day
And on trial all the time.
A busy mind, and a crowded mind,
That was mine, mine, and mine.
I began to see the differences
Between you and me.
The difference was in the perception of my reflection.
A victim of a split personality.