Dust

I like you human.
That smile that always dies but remains a print.
That hair that blows in the gasps of wind
Your skin that for some, is a mark of loyalty.
A mark of resentment.
The genes that produce mechanically
Affect mentally, emotionally.
But human, I find it charming,
That you blame yourself for your chromosomes.
Quite comical in my eyes.
Dear humans, how I am raptured by your quaint ideas
Your nuances of life and fate.
But you small miniscule iota of a human
It always astounds me how you care so much
You care so much for the thoughts of other specks.
You are all specks. And you are on my floor.

-Pamplemousse