The final day

If there is a day of judgement
Where my deeds are lain out before me
I wonder if I will get a say
To try to justify how I used to be

It would feel fairer to make a speech
A great diatribe about my life
The why and what and how and why
Just a chance to lift my strife

But, well, I know some who spin lies of gold
And I do not enjoy that craft
Maybe some of them could change their fate
And tell tales after as they laughed

I'm learning, recently, there is a trade
It's often better to be sorry than right
I have caused pain. Not much I hope.
I used to justify myself into the night

But now? I've changed, I think.
It's ok to make mistakes. Even big ones sometimes.
And if there is a final day, I wish to accept that.
Not just be another lost soul arguing crimes