The Humanity of the Inhuman

A poem about the immortality of emotions

Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash

We’re all a little monstruous,
With our claws and words and fangs.
We death glare at any outsiders,
Who aren’t within our covens and our gangs.

But even devilish demons can sometimes feel,
The heat of the hellfire burning their skin.
Vampires get hangry, are left to bleed out,
From the haemorrhaging guilt within.

Werewolves are prowling for a mate,
Ghosts just want to feel a little seen.
Witches can often slump, powerless,
Even immortals wonder, “what does life mean?”

Humans have been known to be rather evil,
And goodness can be found inside the unreal.
The supernatural, paranormal — it’s natural and normal,
To be compelled by all the things you might feel.