I am human, a broken sentence, a fragmentation.
I am trying, to mend the muscle and send the message.
I am human, a faulty function, abomination.
I’ll come up short – in every column and situation.
But I’m not Humane, with the way that I treat and blame.
I am not Humane, rejected embrace, disdained acceptance:
The Human Race.
I am human, constant confusion, limited knowledge.
I’m well aware of what I don’t know, can’t seem to forget.
I am human, a fallen ideal, abandoned question.
I was hoping to have a mission, clarification.
I am human: What does this mean? I have no concept.
How can this be? No one was watching, no planned creation.
Still I’m not Humane with the way that I fake out my brain.
Try to suspend belief, close one eye to the thief, that’s science and genetics:
Ninety-eight percent deoxyribonucleic, it’s primitive -
you can protest this fact, hold out for context or explore and accept.
I am human,
I am human.
- ‘Humane’ by Brett Gleason, a work in progress