Am l actually human?

This question keeps arriving on my doorstep.

Amidst the raining sneezes and

clouded doubts choking my throat

like a stubborn cough

Amidst the overwhelming emotions trapped within me.

Like morning crowd stuffed in an office bus.

Am I really human?

When I don't allow myself to feel too much.

Too love too much, 

to hate too much.

To cry and fall as the good old Niagara, 

fearless

Into the lap of Mother Nature

Am I even nature?

When l've waited half my life to mature,

And when I did I realized 

keeping the inner child alive is actually mature nature.

Torn between places I travel,

Still figuring out where is my soil.

if I am nature, how do I better my nurture?

And if l am nature, am l pure like Ganga?

Am I actually, really, absolutely, definitely human?

Or am I a robot, a machine, an iOS,

or a cheap and easy android system,

Looking for an update in self-help books?

Not to be happy, for I might be sad again.

Tired of too highs and too lows,

l am now conforming to the mediocre life.

It is safe, it is easy, and quite underrated.

I have learned the art of monotoning my days.

Am I really, really human?

If I am not allowed to feel,

l judge myself when I don't heal.

If my feelings are trapped in reels,

If my fingers scroll the screen,

They've learned to conceal without

putting any makeup on my face.

I can't see my problems face to face

Mirror on the wall,

Don't you see me crawl?

Mirror, mirror, stop asking this question,

Am l a real human being?

If I doubt my being?