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Exactly

What might I be
If I know not who I am?
If I am who I think I am,
I am not who I believe
Myself to be, therefore
Not knowing who I am,
What might I be?
Reread and perhaps
There is comprehension,
But even the conclusion
Is submerged in murky
Water, anchored by
The burdens, problems
Of my past. Well.
Release the anchor
And be free of the
Addictions, afflictions.
Indeed, nothing truer can
Be spoken, but speech
Is notoriously easier
Than the action. I
Beg for help, I break the
Rules of poetic flow
With enjambments and
Non-rhyming words to
Be noticed by a person
Of sorts, perhaps, so 
I can be made known
What I might be. I have
Given up on the metaphors
Of what my current 
State is. This is a plea
That someone beyond
The fourth wall will
Will see there is a fifth
And sixth wall, for the 
Ceiling and the floor,
Two polarized afterlives,
Separated by the 
Incorrigible hatred of
Magnetism—a bridging
Point is needed, that I
May discover someone
Across the fourth wall,
In the ceiling, for I am 
Below the floor, yet I
Still live. I beg for help.
I want to know who I am,
And what I am supposed
To be. Whether I may be
Permitted to love, or to
Find love; whether I may
Be wrong in everything—
Should I be, I am sorry
To all and wish to make
Amends. So I ask once
More, what might I be
If I know not who I am? 
What might poetry be,
If it is not written as such?
Pardon me. But notice
The humbleness over my
Pride and take heed.
I am a man who does not
Know what I am to know.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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