An outlaw dies
At the end of a rope,
Such a short drop
To the place of no hope-
The wrong any of us do
Can kill, more than just a few,
There's always some price to pay
For going astray-
Gunfighters go out
In a blaze of glory,
For us common folk though
It's a bit less flamboyant story-
We tend to fade away alone
Dying in despair, for the love of home,
Failing often to come together
In our restless search of forever-
In days of old
Perhaps we knew better where we stood,
But the reality is for humanity
There is not much seperating the bad from the good-
The good we want,
The bad we do;
The human story,
Sad but true-
Good or bad
The differences we have,
Won't count near as much
As the way we give love to those we touch-
From the gunslinger
All the way through every one we know,
We all understand where it is
That we deserve to go-
It's not the bad or the good
That seperates us in the end,
It's not even what we were
Or where we have been;
Rather it is by the love (or lack of) that we've shown
Determines how we will be forgotten - or forever known;
The real difference lies within the
Way -with love- we continue to try...
And Who -in return- we are loved by.

Smoky Hoss

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bad-good/