Humane

A free-verse poem about being human.

Written: December 05, 2014

Is it wrong that I don't want others,

To be so dependent on me?

For the more people need you,

The easier it is to fail in life--

And feeling their disappointment,

Is stronger than your own emotion.

It rips at you and your mind,

Breaking you down bit by bit.

The never-ending emptiness,

In your chest getting stronger,

Each day--hour--second.

So many things you want to fix,

But so many things that won't,

For no amount of will power,

Can mend the forever-broken.

I'm sorry that all of these expectations,

Are part of the reason I'm falling,

I'm sorry that I try to make it seem,

Like _you're_ always the problem,

Even though you claim the problem,

Is, and always has been, my presence.

But all of these mistakes I make,

Are just part of my life and being.

And just because you're too afraid,

To confront them to me myself,

Doesn't mean it's humane to tell others,

Of all of the sins I've made.

I don't want to tell others,

Of what I've done in the past.

For what's happened is done,

And there's no way to go back,

And change what I've committed--

But my shadows will remain dark,

And must not shroud what little,

Of my light remains in the present.

I can't erase the scars on my wrists;

I can't wipe away the tears of history;

I can't change what I've done before;

And I can't go back to warn myself,

Of those who will hurt me in the end.

I just want you to stop thinking,

That my armor won't crack with every word,

That my eyes won't water with every blow.

I'm still afraid of so many things unknown.

I'm afraid of what awaits me in the future;

Of what leers for me in the darkness;

Of what will happen to those of who I love;

Of what will be thought of me if I ever,

Find the strength to tell them the truth.

I'm afraid of so many things in life,

But it gives you no reason to judge me,

And make all these accusations about me,

Because I'm sure you feel the same inside.

If only you would show your vulnerability too,

For then we could make our own stronghold,

And face the world together--if only you,

And everyone else in this dystopia,

Could actually admit that being weak,

Can be okay without any prejudice.

For there's nothing wrong being human,

Unless we ourselves believe there is to be.

So, for once, we should be able to admit,

That being ourselves is only humane,

And that we're all equal when we live.

(c) unorthodox