I gave humanity a hug, and my arms went right through them.

Humanity didn’t have a name. Humanity wasn’t human.

I thrust a heart into their chest in hopes that it’d bring life.

But instead, humanity grabbed my chest and demanded that it have mine.

I carved open humanity’s skull, but it was hollow and black.

I screamed for any life, but only my voice echoed back.

Humanity’s sockets were empty, and their mouth was sewn shut.

Their nose was sanded smooth, and their ears had been stuffed.

Still, humanity mimicked my voice and my cries without a mouth

And saw me try to stifle my pride with both their eyes gouged out.

They smelled my aspirations, knew when they had soured,

and heard my affirmations turn my minutes into hours.

“You have no heart to beat, and your head seems to be empty.

You’ve nothing in or on your body. You are made of nothing.”

I told humanity, “You’ve stumped me. I cannot understand

How could such a hollow entity represent a man?

How you, a non-human thing, could wear my soul and dance

So comfortably without real legs and clap without real hands.

How terrifying I find your face and forget that it isn’t mine.

I hate you, humanity, but need you at the same time.

I hate that I can only give more into an empty vessel,

How an angel can advocate for the devil.”

Humanity wrapped their arms around me, and I knew I’d only feel space.

To my surprise, I felt the warmth and cold of my own embrace.