Home is so alone sometimes
Here you can enter the deep depths of the Ocean
The body is your haven so it is to said,
So why in my head do I feel fully dead?
The head is core
On the surface we are simply
a bag full of organs
Crunching bones fragments of skin
56% water fat or thin
Yet above shoulders lives
a creation no man could form
Blessed with memories inscribed
tiny details no living being could replicate
Yet they try
No mechanical AI could share what we do
Tainted by misery, heartache, misfortune
That's what makes you, you
For if someone asks why am I here?
Just point at their head and say no more
Eventually they will come to see
We live for the memory.
One of the first poems I ever wrote. I think I was feeling particularly sad.