For almost two years, I volunteered as a Samaritan. http://www.samaritans.org/ The one thing I noticed was that most volunteers became two-faced after being exposed to the types of people who called to add a little excitement in their lives. The game was ‘bait the Samaritan’ and see if they’d bite.

I wrote this poem, splitting it into two parts: the Samaritan face; and the personal face.

The Samaritan Complex

No one to turn to? Nobody listens?

Either they hate you or don’t understand:

Even a criminal can take the stand;

Don’t they know that you’re like gold that glistens?

Tell me your troubles, lay them to one side:

Only a sensitive’s enough for you;

Because I can see from your point of view,

Each moment I help you increases my pride…

         Not him again! Why is he feeling sad?

         Even if he’s suicidal, no way!

         Ev’rytime he calls, I start my shaking.

         Doesn’t he know he’s despicably bad?

         Either he stops or I’m going to say,

         Don’t ring me again; I’ve stopped my faking…