What are we?

I ask 'what are we?' you simply brush it off. You treat as though I'm your world and at the peak of it, it all goes to shit. Crumbling, disintegrating, like it wasn't as high as Everest. I ask 'what are we?' You brush me to the side and pick me up when you're ready, knowing that I'll always be there no matter the number of time i say 'i'm done'. You know there's a part of me that will always call your name. I ask 'what are we?' for the final time, looking for a bit of reassurance, I wonder why when even I know that we are not what we are.