A Casual Existential Crisis

What makes a human a human?

If we’re all meant to be human from the beginning of the universe’s boomin’

then why does everything feel fake. Life can be so inhuman.

Is my reality real? Or another episode of Truman?

A shiny new Earth, all God’s people sing:

“Every since birth, life has been bloomin”

but you can feel it in your bones, you can never bring

yourself to believe it. Because what happens after?

When Autumn comes, and there’s no more Spring?

When the cold groans grow, and there’s no more laughter.

Don’t assume winter will be humane, just because you’re human

Can you feel it loomin’? The inevitability.

Because Life is but a circle. With each season playing it’s part.

We all start at a point and eventually depart.

For there is beauty in life and hope in death

And all that’s left is deciding whom in

You’ll place your last breath

As each season of life will leave you a new man

That, dear friends, is what is in a Human


This is my NaPoWriMo Poem for Day 3. The prompt was to write something that transpires over a period of time with some imagery, sound or emotional content (guess which one I chose). I tried to portray the silently, confused voice that I believe is low-key screaming inside of all of us. Also, this poem made me hungry. Weird. If you clicked on this for cat videos…don’t worry. I would have done the same thing. (click here if you dare).

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