My Worth

What am I made of?

-A skin covers my muscles

that then covers my bones

Or the cliche:

Of flesh and blood I am made



But no, that is not my point

What am I made of?

Am I covered with

merely a fourth of truth

and three quarters of pretension?



Do I trust others

but not myself?

Or do I trust myself

and not others?



Do I consist of fair judgment?

Or cling on first impressions?



Am I worth living?

And worth remembering

when I die?


-Poem written early 2004

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