Two blinking black eyes that see the light,
Is that all I am? I see, I hear, I smell, I touch.Surely, there is more to me than that.
If not, why am I not the set of eyes
gaping beside me, same as such.
I see two arms stretching out to hold,
Gazing down, supporting legs, feet cold;
Now, here is a not so amusing riddle. Try!
Hands draw warmth yet you catch cold;
Cold feet leads to temperatures running high.
Mysteries are one too many, yet the one
I pursue - Surely, there is more to me than that.
It is clear to me now that I have a shape,
I wrap my skin over my bones like a drape.
I have organs and blood to support my life
But I am one in many; about that there is no strife.
Surely, there is more to me than that.
I have lived at places, settlements of like bodied,
Hopping from one to another, gathering threads
Of memory; I like some of those, some I dread.
Gaining ground, I am partly defined by the path I led.
Surely, there is still more to me than that.
Looks like I have made connections, associations really,
People have loved me completely and despised me cruelly.
Some were left behind to be missed and some forgotten.
Parts of me and always would be, making me who I am,
Hard to explain but still there is more to me than that.
My mind produced questions, simply complex to some,
wrapped up with entangled ease for some others.
I answered or at least tried to find some answers;
Sometimes there were poor decisions ;
And pretty far from good weathers.
All my questions and their answers,
my decisions and consequences -
formed the part of a puzzle that is me.
I am not sure now but it seems like
There is still more to me.
