What did I invent?
I did not invent the language I speak in.
I did not invent the words I use to describe what I see.
Nor did I invent my own emotions,
nor the words I use to describe what I feel.
I did not invent myself—my parents did.
But they didn't know it would be me.
I didn't invent the brain I think with.
I wonder, did I really invent anything?
(This echoes my first post, 'Inside Our Head,' though this time it came out as a poem)