Hoodwinks Poem by Ima Ryma

My neighborhood is where I live,
Along with lots of other folks.
Each one of us has much to give,
In hating blows, in loving strokes.
Conflicting forces flow among -
The whorehouse madam helps the poor;
The pious reverend rapes the young -
Pretense or truth behind closed door?
I walk the streets in day or night.
Blessing and danger ever be;
What's wrong is walking with what's right,
And all are walking within me.

My mind is like the neighborhood,
Filled with a mixture - bad and good.