The angry ones challenge me,
the crossed arms and narrow eyes
committed to their own silent rebellions.
The hand-wringers endear themselves to me,
the ones with too much time to tangle themselves
inside their own neuroses.
The desperate ones touch me,
the wet eyes and shaking shoulders
hungry for help.
The victims ignite me,
the ones who’ve forgotten about kindness
and only recognize cruelty.
Love this.