It hurts to look into the sky
and know that it's
the same blue
that flies above you.

and all the stars,
and all the clouds,
are yours as much
as they are
mine to touch.

and it hurts to see you
living without
living within

because, to live for us
would be to devastate
and demonstrate,
exacerbate,
others that want us to
live for them,
instead.

it hurts to think
of the times that may
never return
yet, constantly burn

even though those times,
though memories may last,
are probably best kept
in the past

it hurts to imagine
the rest of my life
without what you gave me,
and what you showed me,
and how you changed me.

It hurts to live
it hurts to breathe
it hurts to do anything
beyond or beneath.

And, looking back and,
with all the things we're assuming
I suppose that, it's really
that it hurts to be human.