I observe the world through tear-filled eyes
As deceitful bounders don their disguise,
Pretending to care for the down-trodden,
Their pledge of compassion soon forgotten

But I cannot help but answer the cry
Of the hopeless whose lives have gone awry,
Marooned on Life's sea, left with but one oar,
Why am I compelled to pull them ashore?

It pains me to hurt any living thing --
Rather than **** a bee, I'd let it sting;
In my heart I know this is who I am ---
A willing martyr, a sacrificial lamb

Can this be choice? The instinct is so strong,
This astute awareness of right and wrong;
Perhaps in my reasoning I'm blundering,
But such principles leave me wondering:

Kids who tear wings off of butterflies ----
Is this a behavior they can revise?
Is this really free will, or do you suppose
Just inherent traits that we can't oppose?

I can't help but think choice is preordained,
At birth some dark souls with evil are stained,
While others carry their cross up the hill.
Do we really choose . . .  do we have free will?