Just a Human

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

The narrator is in dilemma about the definition of humans. He saw a guy dying on the road and did nothing. Now, he is writing poems, cursing those people for being so emotionless. He doubts himself that of being a emotionless person, an animal, or its just a human tendency.

Those wrinkles on my forehead
Won’t fade,
Descrying ‘It’, lying,
Defunct of emotions and life,
‘It’s’ or mine, not sure this time.
Prattling Humans, so called humans,
Hoping for oblivion,
Sighting ‘It’ dying, sure and confident.
Here I am,
Writing poems, at least.
I cared to think too much,
For him,
But I cared not too much.
The guy, it, died, surrounded by animals.
Four hands of help could have
Saved him, not a thousand petrous hearts.
Nemesis cried for him, at least.
Now thinking I am,
“Am I one of them, those animals?”
Hiatus thoughts of mine and dastard myself
Left him to die.
Writing poems, here I am,
The same prattling human,
But Just a human.

Submitted: April 08, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Gamin. All rights reserved.

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