Being A Good Guy

 

It’s not the strike that makes you right—

It’s feeling wrong alone at night.

The ones who gain but still feel pain,

Show guilt, and through it, earn their name.

 

A villain smiles when others break,
The good guy grieves for every ache.
He may strike back, but with regret—
Adding to his unpaid debt.

 

We trust the ones who bear the cost,
Who flinch at every line they’ve crossed.
Who use their guilt as self-defense,
Living life at sin’s expense.

 

We learn to flinch before we’re blamed,
To stay ahead of being shamed.
We earn our place by feeling small—
And proving we deserve at all.

 

The cost is high, the silence deep—
We carry guilt that never sleeps.
A weight we drag to show we fit,
Each sorry part of social writ.

 

We trust the ones who bear the cost,
Who flinch at every line they’ve crossed.
Who use their guilt as self-defense,
Living life at sin’s expense.

 

No guilt, no sign you know the code—
No map to walk the moral road.
Let’s join with those who do self-blame,
Not spotless souls who have no shame.

 

We pass the test not by the deed,
But by the wound that makes us bleed.
The shame we show, the tears we hide,
Are how we stand, and stay inside.

 

We trust the ones who bear the cost,
Who flinch at every line they’ve crossed.
Who use their guilt as self-defense,
Living life at sin’s expense.