Trial

To the wisest there is no answer
Even as a multitude perplexed
The one whose trouble is their concern
Knowing far less even for himself
Ordinary yet alone and seemingly unparalleled
Perhaps the narcissism talking
The rectitude repair if possible
But no happy cure

Not for this one like a
Substituted sheep upon the altar
Could it not have been an object
Of less potential
Unguided and unsourced, fearing
The before it is too late
Life lived as days not as a whole
Never having had an adequate defense
Against the prosecutor who knoweth all

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