The unknown existanceAn existence, a clone, and the unknownLooking at my hands,I wonder,If my mother once used them,Did I…take them from her?Or am I…just merely a cloneWith alterations from my father.Am I merely just a living sculpture,Done by her determination?Or am I just a doll to look after….What am I?I ask the mirror in front of me,Reflecting only a younger image of my mother back at me,And speaking…words of silence.So,What is there,To prove?That I am not a clone, a doll perhaps?Is there an answer? Was there a question? The answer? Science? No….Science only clearly defines our make-up,But what are the secrets within that?Am I just a soul placed into a compatible body?Or am I just a figurement of imagination?Is this world truly real?This one, I'm standing in,Are they real? Am I…real?Does this world truly exist?Do we truly exist?Do I…exist?Is clearly, unknown.