Role of Being a Human

His heart felt nothing,
Even death could not pierce,
His wildest of imaginations,
Imaginations so fierce.
.
He sat there reading,
With poker face.
And finished it with same,
As feelings had no trace.
.
His heart was still the same,
Which of no human's would.
Has he lost his soul,
He knew once he would.
.
A while ago he'd be broken,
broken into pieces and shreds.
But now he just stands,
holding to his threads.
.
Or perhaps he refuses,
refuses to hear heart's loud cry.
The pleas  of his bleeding heart,
Or for him it all is just a lie.
.
Emotions became farce,
He lost his senses of tragedy.
What he held most precious once,
Stands to nothing but crass.
.
Is he a human anymore?
He looks like one.
But shows no signs,
Of humanity evermore.
.
All he knows to act,
To enact the role.
To show the remains of the world,
That he still had a Soul.