Human Form (The)

Red Tissue Pulls the bones

that all men know and own

Organs push the body 


the daily processes


Twitches and contractions

they all work in factions.

blood bleeds through bloated veins

it all smells exactly

the same

to me,

Muscle memory remembes my actions

and pulls me through without my interaction

and I act without thinking, as I always do

a creator of cruelty, the human form.

This poem is about: 


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