On Doing the Right Thing

Trying to do the right thing is thankless
taking needles from the fingers
of emaciated junkies,
swallowing the pain of those
lost in the bottom of a bottle.

Trying to do the right thing...
holding a friend,
fording a river of saline
founded on a disease of passion.

Have you ever found yourself
forgotten, in a dark alley at midnight
trying to do the right thing
trying to find yourself
in the darkness where you were lost?

Have you ever wondered
if the want to do the "right" thing
was just a way to justify
the self-loathing.

Doing the right thing
is justification, at midnight,
lost in darkness
for doing the wrong thing.

For becoming the junkie.
Feeding not on poison, but on pain.

For catching the disease
not of passion, but of rage.

For losing yourself
not in the bottle, but in the blade.