What makes a human, human?
The answer still avoids me.
For I am human in form, 
And I am human by genetics.
And if there is a soul to be said of,
I suppose I'm human there too.

But why can't I feel like a human?
Why can't I move as easily as water,
Through conversation to conversation?
Why can't I bare to look a human,
My genetic brother,
And my spiritual brother,
In the eye?

Maybe I'm animal?
No, that cannot be.
I think and act as human can,
Though not as human is.
That being said,
I feel just one last question,
What am I?

Maybe I'm something different.
Something in between.
Human by form, and by soul, and genetics,
But more animal by how I feel,
Crowded in a society,
That slowly isolates you,
And strangles you.

Maybe it is better to be like me.
See society as the evil thing it can be.
Try to be different,
From what they all see.
Yes, that is it,
I'll be different, 
I'll be me.