I stopped being a good person

When I stopped being afraid.

And that makes me wonder

What I’m made of.

And if it’s really worth anything.

I miss fighting for survival,

Under obvious evil.

And knowing I was doing my best to get through.

Now I wonder

What I’m made of.

And I’m afraid again,

That the answer’s as clear

As the mark on my chest.

I stopped being a good person

When I stopped being afraid.

And that makes me wonder

What I’m made of.