Why I’m An Alien
Dawg
I’ve never seen a dog
that didn’t grasp the intent of another dog.
Never seen birds that missed
what their kind conveyed.
Cat and mice somehow know
the language of their species —
taught by ancient wisdom,
a primal instinct ingrained.
Then I look around
and find myself lost
in a world I don’t grasp,
among these evolved beings
calling themselves human.
They indulge in the darkest fantasies
and lustful dreams,
yet when exposed to the light,
they cry it’s obscene.
Many proclaim they’re consumed by love
yet betray their partners,
breaking sacred trusts
for another fleeting affair.
Others speak in riddles,
masking the true meaning of their words,
double-talking to hide their intent
while saying nothing at all.
There’s no logical pattern.
No clear behavior to be seen.
The way they treat each other
defies comprehension.
Repeated mistakes
made over and over again.
I can’t fathom humanity,
so I must be an alien.
Parental figures belittle
the children they raise.
Political agendas blind people to the truth
while they destroy the land they love
and cry, “Save it for the youth.”
Walking contradictions —
fabricating history,
replacing reality with fiction.
They criticize others’ lives
yet refuse to lend a hand.
I’m not claiming it’s all wrong
but it’s far from right
when insults and provocations
become entertainment.
They commit brutal acts
then seek forgiveness from an unseen force,
while lions hunt to survive,
and that is somehow worse.
I can’t relate.
It makes little sense to me
when a species destroys its own
and pretends to repent.
Perhaps I was left here
by a departing species.
I don’t understand the human race,
so I must be an alien.