I'm an Onion

Hi! Who am I? I'm an onion, allegorically, Speaking strictly metaphorically. You may see I have a human form - To the "human" definition I conform, But, for our purposes today, I'm an onion.  Is that OK? I'll peel myself before your eye. If you don't mind, though, I'm a little shy. First, I'll take away my outer layer, My given name, Dave Crandall, But my social security number Is my fully unique handle.   I'm a retired IT professional, But, in this sad confessional, I'm a wannabe poet, musician, Singer, and mathematician. My goodness, did I make you cry? Is that a tear I see in your eye? It's not the secrets I reveal? It's just what happens when onions peel? I'm both a father and a friend, And I am registered to vote. But identity's foundation Goes beyond party affiliation. Beyond, beneath, another layer within - What's next under my onion skin? Is it my religion, or my world view? This is getting heavy...phew! Is it a story told by my mother? Or my ex-lover or my brother? Or my diary on the shelf - A story that I told myself?  Am I a monster made of DNA, Contorted by environmental factors, Or some kind of creature made from clay, Molded by a divine benefactor? A body of flesh with a set of drives Like hunger, thirst and sex, So, my physical body survives And there's a generation next?  A spirit wanting to make a connection With the universe to be one and share? I think that, maybe, I already am, But I wish to be more aware. As deep layers get small and smaller still, They get hard to understand and define. Touch them, I possibly never will With my finger or my mind.   I guess I really don't have much to show. Maybe, I'm just an onion, I don't know.