The Interrogation Room

I'm interrogating myself like a criminal these days,

To somehow understand why I did what I did.

And in that interrogation room,

Things get ugly sometimes,

When I beat myself with the same questions over and over again,

Trying to find a loop hole in my own story,

To finally understand the reason behind my arrest.

And in that interrogation room,

I allow myself a lawyer sometimes,

Who backs up every thing I say with evidences I didn't know exist,

With alibis and facts to protect myself,

From my own allegations.

And in that interrogation room,

I convict myself sometimes,

And bail myself out too,

For I'm the one who did the crimes,

And I'm the one who is the victim too.