Inhuman, altogether

I retreat inside, hoping to find something

That resembles me

While eschewing most others

Unable to grasp those tenebrous connections

That unite us as peoples, as brothers

I feel inhuman, altogether

As above; so below

Afraid of friend and foe, alike

Subdued by fire put to flower

I persist, alone, yet in accompaniment

With ephemeral cacophonies of memory

I wait, patiently, for me to show up

So that we can chat about life

The myriad ways in which we’ve undone ourselves

Myself, and I, both colleague and ally

At odds, just the same

Always continuing to unbecome what I became

I feel inhuman, not whatsoever

As swathes upon swathes of emotions take me

They’re not mine, nor does it matter:

They ache, just the same.

For to be human assuredly means

To be ever, ever in pain.