Hypocrisy

A man lies bleeding, his face is in ruins. No one stops to help him. Car headlamps momentarily release him from darkness, then plunge him back into it, ignoring his need. Flashes of light representing the passing feeling for him.

A man lies dying, his shattered car smoking. It’s getting late yet no one calls for help. No one gives him their time, no one wants to console him back to consciousness. No one slows down as they pass, but merely glance at the scene and hasten on into the sanctuary of their lives.

A man lies helpless, his blinded eyes unable to see humanity’s bitterness, his wounded arm unable to grasp for a hand that isn’t there, his bleeding throat unable to whisper to deaf ears that stopped listening long before he had started talking. And he is treated as a stranger and alien.

A man lies dead, too late to be saved by passing cars. And still people go by; never looking, never stopping, never caring, and drive off into the distance. So do I.