Am I the sum of my parts
Or are they but some of me?
Do I just add to the arts
Sculpted as clay pottery?

Can there be some of my parts
That comprise the sum of me?
Does a soul live in our hearts
Or is it mere fantasy?

Am I but automation
Of enslaved thought and movement?
Does my complex emotion
Stem from chemical descent?

Or,
Is there,
Something more?