Just a poem

I don’t have a name
Only a face
I’ve been subjected life
I’ve fallen from grace.

I’m not a person
Just a thing
With out an identity
I’m not worth anything.

In this morgue
They put a tag on my toe
The only thing it says
Is my name is Jane Doe.

The metal is cold
I’m naked on this slab
Hard to believe I’m dead
Because I didn’t see the cab.

I left my purse at home
It had everything in it.
My family is spotless
Never broken the speed limit.

So now I don’t have a name
Or a family just a face.
My height my weight
My eye color and race.

They’re pulling me out
And putting me on a table.
It’s just as cold, same kind of metal
Only difference is this one is stable.

The water’s so cold
And my skin’s so pale
They cut open my chest
As if I’m not real.

I guess since I’m dead
I’m really not
But the least they could do
Stop saying what I’ve got.

Yes there’s a heart
I know it works just fine
And leave it in there
Because its mine.

Those are my lungs
Parent’s were smokers
When I used to run
It felt like breathing hot pokers.

I know what I have
But why don’t you know?
I know my name is certainly not
Just Jane Doe.

Dead and cold
No heart beat or pulse
No breath or pain
Any movement is entirely false.

I’ve been cut open
I don’t get a funeral
Because no one would be there
To witness my burial.

They can’t find my family
Because they don’t know my name
They can’t even say
I didn’t die in vain.

So now I’m dead
Where do I go?
Not heaven or hell
They won’t take poor Jane Doe.