Maybe they are right.

They say am uptight,
to turn a deaf ear to norm;
to their rules, I don't conform,
Maybe they are right.

They say it's a futile fight,
God never meant for man to live,
this way, us, he won't forgive,
Maybe they are right.

They say I need to think straight,
for every sickness, there is a cure;
They just seem so very sure,
Maybe they are right.

How will I ever see the light,
lament they, in this abominable path;
their way of life, is my holy bath.
Maybe they are right.

Theirs is a world of fight,
of division, difference and hate;
their thirst for blood will never abate.
What do they know about right?

I will try with all my might,
To be me, to love like I was meant to do;
The beauty of it all, they have no clue,
In their eyes, I never want to be right.

This is poem 7 for Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD 2011 Challenge. This poem is dedicated to everyone who is different in any way, who choose not to follow a stupid norm and be themselves, and are proud to be so. The world is a better place because such people exist. Prompt: "Maybe (blank)" poem. I had quite an easy time following a rhyming scheme here, ABBA. :)