It’s funny
how, out of seven kinds of man,
Homo sapiens escaped extinction —
the only species that lost its shit
faster than fear could keep up.
Humans —
who know death is inevitable
yet run from it
like a prison break.
Humans —
who call a narcissist a beast
for showing true colours,
when every actual beast
shows more empathy
than humanity ever managed
in bedtime myths
and folklore’s most fevered dreams.
Humans —
who once lived as they were meant to:
surviving on demand,
the way they now consume cinema —
snack in one hand, meaning in the other,
clueless in both.
Humans —
who hoard money like it’s real,
as if it won’t burn
as beautifully
as their ideals.
But here’s what nobody told Homo sapiens:
extinction isn’t tragedy;
survival is the joke we forgot we were telling.
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