Being Your Kind of Human

With your smiling gaze, you ask for my thoughts.
Although I smiled back I had to look down so you wouldn’t see me answering your question.
My lowered eyes meant nothing more than me being inquisitive
Wondering what could happened if  I gave up on searching for  a meaning of what it was to be your kind of  human
The kind that perceived  false truth in silence
Not seeing that my only mistake is the mistake of doing as humans do.
You create me as if you were my God
and become enraged when you see an error in your sculpture
A perfect representation of the every religions worst quality
Basing my life’s meaning on your distorted views 
But, aren’t I human?
Again being nothing more than inquisitive
Wondering how my ethological presence,
My instinctual will for emotional survival
and my human reactions to life are far too extreme to accept.
I, the human, can create the judgmental surface of indecency
I shouldn’t sigh when I am touched
Shouldn’t cry when I am not,
Since my actions can influence the effect in which the
sun shines or sets.
It seems you’d rather see me blank, nonexistent or
pretend that I thrive with no pain
Because  to you there is no beauty in seeing that I too feel

…Feel that I will never be your kind of human.
and with those thoughts aloud
I was your distroyed art form.

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