The Highway Walker

I don’t know whether to pity you or envy you 

you are not tied down by a piece of machinery

 you are not forced to pay another tax to the red white and blue 

you are a spitting image of simplicity
You travel down the same road day in, day out 

you don’t blink when passed by a speeding man made death contraption 

You are not phased by the rude passerby’s jeer or shout

You just continue about your business, your mysterious mission
I do not know if you are one of the millions that is forced to live on the street

Or one of the ones overlooked because you have a mental illness 

You have a jacket and shoes on your feet

You are not yelling obscenities or wearing a dress
You are my daily quandary 

And there is a simple solution to my question

Stop and ask, extend a helping hand of sincerity 

But that brings upon a thought of damnation 
If I approach you, and you are delusional, schizophrenic or just plain insane

Would I have to engage in a duel of violence with you 

Would my actions be responsible for the bullet in your brain

I do not know, so I leave you , and pretend I’m Sherlock looking for another clue.

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