Poets logo


Or lack thereof...

By Angel AdagioPublished 3 months ago 2 min read

I hope, someday, my words will mean more than my existence.

Cuz that'll mean I left my mark on the world forever.

Right now, though, I feel as though my life is not that important.

Yes, we all are special and unique and deserve to be acknowledged for our individuality,

But when you really think about it, in a room filled with people who are all different, doesn't that also make us the same?

We are human.

We're born,

We live,

We die.

Yet, somehow to the people I have interacted with, I am merely an inconvenience to their lives and do not deserve the privilege of living a normal life.

I am an alien,

A disease,

A pandemic.

And those thoughts have become all-consuming to the deepest regions of my life.

I don't feel human. Ever.

And somehow, that makes me more human than ever,

Knowing that the pain I feel is real and that I would NEVER pass this pain on to any other person.

The daggers thrown into my already wounded and abused heart,

Will never see the light of day,

Or hurt another soul.

And that's my flaw...I would never hurt those who've hurt me,

And I would never hurt those who didn't know me.

But that's humanity, right?

Weren't we taught as kids to be nice to others?

Weren't we told that differences make us special?

Why am I so different that it makes me less than human...?

No one has ever been able to answer these questions.

"People are just awful."

"Sometimes people are just jerks and don't realize they're being jerks."

"Grow thicker skin."

"Don't let them get to you."

...but it still hurts...

Why do I have to adjust to the people who continue to make life unlivable...

And so, I have my words.

I have my prose,

My poems,

My story.

This is me in all its ugly,


Real glory.

And I am human.

Whether or not the world or the universe wants to believe that to be true.

I am alive,

I can breathe,

I can feel.

I do feel, and right now, feelings suck.

And I need to write them down to get them out,

Otherwise, they will continue to brew and over time, they will boil over and explode into something greater than anyone can imagine.

But that is human.

I hope that my work is enough.

I hope someone,


Finds comfort in the idea knowing that the mistreatment they have faced is not normal.

That they know deep down, regardless of what has been told to them,

We are human.

And no one can take that from us.





About the Creator

Angel Adagio

The version of me that lives in the depths of night

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2023 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.