Guilt

Sometimes I feel guilty,
And I don't know why.
I want to be dragged down the street,
Laughed at by the people I am dragged by.

Outside religion there is so much freedom,
But little self-assurance,
That what you're doing is anywhere near right.
But what is the alternative?

Without rules, guilt must point the way,
To where your body tells you not to go.
And without testing with life experience,
Where wrong is, you'd never know.

And it's alright,
It's a small price to pay, I guess,
For all the moments when the guilt is replaced,
By exuberance.