what is a human
but the chemicals
that make him up
or the thoughts
in his brain or the tiny
little wrinkles
on his palms or even
the warm, red blood
cells that persistently
pump through his
body even though
he wants them
to run
cold.

what is a human
but the anxiety
and worries that
define his every
waking moment
and encapsulate him
in a fear-driven
rage and throw him
into a pit of sadness
and anger until
his humanity is
gone.

what is a human
but the tears
streaming down
his face when he
lays his head on
his pillow at night
and wishes that
he wouldn't have
to lift it up in the
morning and that
instead of a bed, he
would wake up in a
coffin.