At This Time of Night I Can Almost Forget My Own Name

Do you feel real?

Does anyone, ever?

I am sitting in the darkness

trying to remember what I

came here to say.

Sometimes I think we are all just

pots of dirt they forgot

to plant anything in.

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7 thoughts on “At This Time of Night I Can Almost Forget My Own Name

  1. There are nights when I feel like a pot of soil that has had too many things planted in it and not enough fresh soil. Then, after a night of sleep, I’m ready to grow again.

    Very nice poem.

Thoughts? I love those.

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