Identity

I am me.

I am the definition of how the earth began,

Definitely not a sweet serenade,

The sound I made is like when you pop the pin off a grenade,

Without me you wouldn’t exist,

Creation controversies with me, have raised many a clenched fist.

I am me.

I had this cow, I never liked her.

The chance came along, I sold her fur.

I sold her for magic beans,

But my mother threw them out, she said, we didn’t have the means.

The beans grew tall, the beans grew strong,

And on the top of them lived a giant who didn’t know right from wrong.

I got my share of his gold,

Now I don’t have to eat bread with mould.

I am me.

You start with none,

Then might have just one,

You eventually get a lot.

I grow out of a soft little spot.

The former me is associated with wisdom,

I could be harder than gypsum.

Eventually, you lose all of me,

Then you get a shiny new pair and then you can drink again, spanish tea.

I am me.

They call me short, I’m partly red,

I’ll give you a hint, I’m not actually dead.

I am here this instant, I define myself.

I have a name, I’m unique, just like everyone else.