Two Sides Collide

I'm prone to bleeding

for strangers,

the homeless guy

I had a smoke with

and talked to for an hour

at that stoplight

in Indianapolis,

the girl that walked up

and asked if I had a spare,

back at the hotel

the man evicted from

his house - he got a pack.

the drifter, I drove

for hours as he slept,

refusing money and food

out of guilt.

or the couple

starting out, pregnant,

with nothing, got a car

and a stove. or 20 bucks

to the grungy dude

with the sign.

but the rest, I tend to avoid,

not the wife and kids,

the others,

to them I'm cold.

maybe low on hope,

too many offerings

to those close that meant nothing,

like it was owed.

I tend to isolate

within safety where I

can bleed for the broken

without fear of betrayal.

the way I treat people,

a strength and weakness.

if they ever collide,

I'd be more normal,

maybe better,

but less content.