My hands feeding me,
My legs help me walking,
when you people meet me,
My tounge help me talking.
Eyes help me to see,
Nose helps me to breathe,
My hair makes me a lovely face,
As if the luckiest of the space.
I care to wonder what I am,
It seems to bother me sometimes,
Don't know if you understand me or not,
I'm always with my rhymes.
Things are helping me all the way,
But I think something is gone.
Am I just wastage without that,
and why I feel all alone?
