Only Human

People are only human–
with pigmented flesh and 206 bones.
Our hearts, an overworked metaphor,
the way we pump it into our poems,
making it the lifeblood of our words,
blaming it for our bleeding and loss.
Instead, we love each other
with our digestive tracts,
they way we chew each other up
and spit each other out.
If teeth don’t break us down,
stomach acid will.

People are only human–
built to be muscle tough,
but pressure point weak,
predisposed to feel not-enough,
susceptible to critique.
Moods made of serotonin
and dopamine,
adrenaline dripping
into our nervous systems and spines,
all at different levels at different times.

People are only human–
and we should be loving
with every organ we have inside,
even with the parts of us
purposed only to destruct and dispose.
Nothing more than chemical reactions,
tissues and tendons we get trapped in,
all organically grown.

People are only human–
and even flesh and bone
blooms only to expire,
so let’s learn to accept each other
with every fiber
of our decaying being.

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