Identity Crisis

My blood is red, my muscles, tight.
My tears are wet, my bones are white.
My heart pumps blood throughout my veins
and holds memories of better days.
My brain is gray, it’s full of thoughts,
and memories of what I’ve lost.

For you, these things may be the same –
we both know pleasure, both know pain.
So who am I from Nobody?
Who knows my joys and suffering?
You are you, and I am I,
and who will notice when we die?

My thoughts aren’t clear, my head’s not right,
I fight sadness with all my might.
My nightmares nibble at my brain
and pluck my heartstrings everyday.
So who am I to claim myself
as different from anyone else?