who i am, even what i am,
i couldn't care less.
every time the answer comes,
it soon becomes trash.
am i me or am i not me?
who is this me? what is this me?
who i am, even what i am,
i never know.
i never find the answer.
i've had enough of questioning.
let me be a speck of dust blown by the wind
or a dead fish following the stream.
i am not conscious.
i cannot be.
i am an object.
i am not living.
i am dead.
whoever i am, whatever i am,
it's not important ---
*anymore.