I'm a subterranean homesick alien
Homesick for a place that doesn't exist
Existing on the wrong plane of existence
On a plane headed straight down
Crashing and burning as the sky falls up
Burning my skin to feel inhuman
While my inhumane thoughts take over
And tell me to overtake anyone in my way
Even though my way is the wrong way
But to me, the wrong way is the right way
And the way home seems so right
But a right turn leads me to a cliff
And a left turn leads me to a void
And all I'm left with is a scar on my left hand
Handed to me by an entity in a baseball cap
Popping a cap in my head
So I can head to my home
The home that I'm homesick for
Away from the home that makes me sick
And away from the sickness called being human

~

If you couldn't tell, since it is kind of hard to, this poem is about being kin, which is something that I hold close.