Dazed or Confused?

In the interrogation room, a man sat alone,
His mind a tumultuous sea, his thoughts unknown.
He confessed to a crime, a heinous deed,
But the truth of his words, none could read.

His story began with a night of drinking,
A blur of memories, his mind was sinking.
He stumbled upon a man, he claimed to be a foe,
And in a fit of rage, he dealt the fatal blow.

The detectives pressed him for more details,
But his mind was a mess, his thoughts like snails.
He spoke of purgatory, of a place in his mind,
Where his guilt and his memories intertwined.

They asked him to describe this purgatory,
But he struggled to find the right allegory.
He spoke of a maze, of a never-ending loop,
Of a place where he was trapped, in a state of dupe.

The detectives grew frustrated, they wanted the truth,
But the man's words were vague, his mind aloof.
They wondered if he was telling the truth at all,
Or if he was trapped in his guilt, in a mental freefall.

As the interrogation wore on, the man grew quiet,
His eyes distant, his mind in a riot.
The detectives left him alone, to his own devices,
And as they watched through the glass, they saw his mind suffices.

In the end, the man's fate was unknown,
Whether he was telling the truth, no one had known.
But as he sat in that room, his mind in a daze,
He wondered if he was trapped, in a purgatory of his own haze.