Be Human

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Sunday afternoon in the middle of August. Sun lounging high in the sky. A cloudy menagerie decorates her home. I walk down to the river Hear the boats passing by A roar of engines and water
How does one define humanity How can  I define human nature The human condition that knows hate ever passionately  but also unconditional kindness  How can I explain fickle minds that 
The unnecessary emotions in our minds and chests leave us bleeding the crimson that our body needs to keep us alive We wait for something that will never come while we lose someone who was never ours
My name is not important,I am not my name. I am a lover and a listener,But also a strong fighter. Though my name identifies me,It doesn't tell my story.
A poem has changed since we were little; “Here is the church, here is the steeple, Open it up...”
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