Human

What am I? Who am I? Not the one who believes what I am. You know me? Yet I don't even know myself. A figure of a make-belief arrogance. Simply because I'm Human. Afraid to show. Afraid to tell. All I know is I am human. One that leads his thoughts with emotion. Scared of death and the fleeting time. So scared that "he" can't help but cry all the time. If I'm alive, am I human? But what about the beasts outside? Are they human? If I fall with my own hands, am I human? Blessed with all the imperfections? Disregarding the furless skin, Without remorse to it's own kin. Is that Human? My reflection shows that I am Human. But am I really human? Not some beast or an alien? Who am I? What I am? If who am I is what I am, Then what am I? But simply only human. If I get angry, sad, and happy, Is that being human? Not a lie told by constant hypocrisy? If I can be like the birds that fly, Can I be the same as those who pass by? If human is what I am, then... "Are you human?"