5 Pounds

I. 

I am.

Funny. 

We always look to see what we are

We attribute 

Looks

Likes

Loves

And Hates

But is that what makes me I?

In truth, we are nothing 

Nothing but mass

A group of cells brought together by random fate

Cells walking and talking

Acting like we were put here 

by some sick twist of fate

and maybe we were in all reality.

But that does not make me I.

I....I am 

Unknown. Nothing more than some God's sick sense of humor

Given minds to think we are something great

but there must be something greater than us

I am anxiety. Depression. 

A personality molded by prescriptions and shrinks. 

That. 

That is what I am. 

And if you think you are anything special

Anything different than the rest of us

Well then. 

You my friend are the most unfornate of all. 

Your entire being can be attributed to 5 little pounds.

Altered by a simple prick.

A pull.

A yank

Scrambled into a totaly different person

At the will of another 5 pound entity.

So you ask what am I?

I say I am the same as you.

Nothing more than a physical representation 

Some God's sick

Twisted

Deranged

Sense of Humor

That is what you are.

That is what I am.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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