I’m going to talk about what I really am:
just a human.

Just a by-product of my DNA,
one of 7 billion waiting for a day

that will never come, ‘cause we’re always getting ready for the next phase of our lives.
Prepare for college, work, retirement, then prepare to die!

All of who I am is just a string of C’s, G’s, T’s, and A’s.
My identity a mere word on a page, made to be erased.

And all of human’s petty troubles are on the surface of one sphere,
we can shout as loud as we want, but cold space will never hear.

And they say that your identity is how you change the world,
but that world is just a meaningless speck, any stones that I have hurled

will fall endlessly in darkness and never hit a thing,
like every attempt to make a change I’ve ever tried to fling.

But since all good stories must have a happy end,
I’ll consider my identity
a new book to be penned,
I’ll consider my life a new world to befriend.