I am made of things I know, about the things I know.
If you strip away the things I know, about the things I know,
I am left only with the things I know — 
which keep me alive, 
but I will not be me anymore,
I will just be It.

Many times I see the It. 
Many times I see
the me on top of the it which makes me I.

I see some around me and I call them them. 
The It calls them the others. 
The others become them to me only when 
I see the me in them.
I see the me in them,
because of the things I know, about the things I know, about the others.

And there are those who are among them,
about whom I even know things,
about the things I know, about the things I know, about them,
and I call them we.

And there is the other me in we,
Confusing my it,
who doesn’t get how an other can be me,
that other me out there in we, 
which makes my it let go of me,
because of you.

I am now split in a me and a you,
and I call them us.