Outlaw

Something wicked whistled through the air
And landed in me; at least, that's how I
Would rather claim it happened. You were there,
And watched it happen; you can testify
That in reality, I chose this path.
I chose to turn away from what I had,
To turn instead toward violence and wrath,
To turn the good that I possessed to bad,
Denying what I was, what I should be.
There was no outer agent, you might say,
No other force that acted out on me
A larger drama; no, I chose this way.
And if you say so, will I recognize
The truth of it? Or will I say "she lies?"