Only Human

Am I a bad person?

Heaven knows I try,
But the seven sins fly by
Sticking needles and pins
Into the skins of my conscience
And as the world spins, I cry,
"I'm not a bad guy!"
But I lie.
I don't know why,
But I've heard the song that goes on and on,
And the words are blurred as they sing along:
Different is wrong!
And you won't belong,
Because you are not strong to be one of the herd or the throng.
Does that make me a bad person?

Perhaps I am different, make no mistake,
It might be a given, but I can't take
It when some slimy, suffocating, self-centred snake
Slithers in and sprays his toxic ego across the room,
As he says with blasé in all of his ways,
"I don't give a damn,"
Because nothing else matters.
And he runs this scam without a gram of respect,
As life hands him platter after silver platter,
Surrounds him with chatter and alcoholic drinks
Until he sinks into a pink fog of stink,
And to myself I think, I hate this guy.
Does that make me a bad person?

Does that make me a bad person,
If I am quick to judge
People who are happily willing to fudge
Details to spend money that isn't theirs,
Or vanish unawares while others need you upstairs.
I'm putting on airs, I should not begrudge;
But my ethics don't budge; they rarely bend
And in the end, should I even take cares
In the affairs
Of the people I call my friends,
If their goodness is all pretend
And their conscience is aloof;
Do I at least have proof
That their morality is not so black and white,
But scattered between fifty shades of play,
Because, to them, this might be just a game.
One that's still tame, but all the same,
No one's ever around to claim the blame.
If that ignites an angry flame,
Does that make me a bad person?

Perhaps it doesn't make me a bad person.
Perhaps it only makes me human.

Perhaps there is no difference.
The Edna Man