Yes, you're bad.

As bad as the clouds that quench the dry land.
As bad as the farmer that tosses and turns the stubborn soil.
As bad as the thorns that guard the tender rose.
As bad as the shadow that proves that light is near.
As bad as the doctor who cuts the flesh to heal.
As bad as the son who doesn't live near.
As bad as the hunger that gives life a purpose.
As bad as the rain that floods the desert.
As bad as the leaves that shed to make room for new ones.

Then maybe the badness that you see is but the seed of a gentler bloom,
a frail hope clutched by trembling hands
and though it hurts, it is all you have.