another day
picking at
my face
wondering
if I'm of this race
because last time
I closed my eyes
I could swear I
wasn't meant
to be human
wasn't built
for all of the
pain, inflicted
because of, or
to me. these
hands were
granted to me
by the grace
accidents
can become.

these hands
create, hate,
releasing
explosions
of alien
emotions.
that's not normal
for a person to hate
all that they create
that's not normal
to destroy yourself
because of a mistake
can't help but miss
and take,
hate for love
as a higher-up
to build your
heart up
from
where you
broke it down.

love can be so weak
love can be so weak
love makes me so weak...
what once was my power
now reeks of defeat, as do I...
yet hate makes me think,
makes me reek just as much,
there's only pain in holding a grudge...
but to be human is to feel both
and I want to feel neither
to be numb and to dissipate
before another explosion.

Is love
the true power
of a human...?
because I'm drowning in it
and the path I see out
is a shore of hate.