What are we, are we made up of the blood, bone and tears. The many experiences and trials through our set number of years? Are we much more than what we've been through. Are we set and surmised by the things that we do? Are we a moment in time? Are we the sum of our fears. Are we our trespasses and lies or defined by our peers. Are we only tomorrow, not bound by today. Held down by the sorrow of each yesterday. Are we the people we seek, the expectations we meet? Are we what we make ourselves or the company we keep? What makes us alive and what sets us apart. Have we grown in their eyes or just children at heart. Is it a test? Are we bound to fail. Did we miss the point, in the little details? Did we miss the devil hiding between the lines? To busy to notice the clear warning signs. Are we marching lock step into our demise? Will we pretend not to notice or feign a surprise? What are we really, what is a man. Is he a respectable person doing all that he can. Is he made of his failures and attempts to get by? His silent regrets and all the tears he won't cry. Is he made up of effort is he made out of will. Is he just the result of the child he killed. The past that's beyond him and never coming back. Is it just that damn simple and matter of fact? Are we more than ourselves, our blood, bone and tears. The medley of losses suffered though many years. Are we better today than we were in the past. Are we every friendship and love that won't last. To be where we are, are we what we let go? Are we living or just alive, I really don't know.