You, The Courtroom

I know we’ve fallen out,
but can’t we just be apart a while?
Why do you always feel the need
to put me, and my life, on trial?

You, the prosecution.
Me, the defence.
Arguing like this
just doesn’t make sense.

You, the jury.
Me, the accused.
Both our emotions,
battered and bruised.

You, the judge.
Me, in the dock.
Awaiting You, the jury,
watching the clock.

You, the prosecution, made a good case,
didn’t listen to my defence anyway.
You, the jury, found me guilty,
didn’t argue, best to obey.
You, the judge, sentenced me to a bitter row,
then made up a case and went away.