They say that, over the years, all the cells in your body are replaced by new ones. Is the result a new you?

I am in reflective mood;
I’m not the chap I used to be,
For all my cells have been renewed.
The question is, am I still me?

I think I am, and that’s what counts,
As Monsieur Descartes would have said.
The “me” that’s stayed the same amounts
To jumbled memories in my head;

That’s why I think the “me” I was
Is now the “me” that is today.
(I hope my logic’s right, because
I don’t know any other way.)

Could I be wrong, though? What if all
My memories are mental quirks?
It’s possible; for, I recall,
It isn’t known how memory works . . .

Enough! These broody interludes
Could generate insanity.
I’m giving up reflective moods –
So stuff the chap I used to be!

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