I'm not sure that I am human.
I'm not sure I have a soul.
Where I'm supposed to have a heart
I feel a gonad or a hole.
I sure act like I'm a wild beast.
I eat. I drink. I rut.
If I'm not thinking with my brain,
Then I'm, at highest, with my gut.
I laugh out loud when I see people
fall,
Out louder when they fart,
and yet, in between my most of times,
I'm capable of art.
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