Who am I? I wish I knew, While sitting here when day is through And writing poems, Or playing games As different faces, different names, And singing music, Writing songs, Reading, sketching, all night long So many things folks never see Until they truly look at me So many things they’ll never know Unless I take the time to show Them what I do, when day is through They’ll certainly not bother to Find out the truth of who I am And what I love, and all I can Take pride in – not just facts and skills Of medicine, prescribing pills But who I am and what I see: What makes up that which is me So who am I? I know so well – But somehow... Somehow... I can’t tell.