i’ve lost all sense of the me
who goes around by the name of I.
if you ask who is the me who
lost the I, i shall respond,
it certainly is not me,
though it claims to be I.
if you ask: how do i know
that this is not me, surly
i have a sense of what i should be;
i’ll retort: i am what i am,
but i’m not what I was–and no sir,
i’m not this i who claims to be me.
you know, this reminds me of how i sometimes wonder what i really am, and how my thoughts could just as well be an illusion, and of how, if i think about it deeply, i seem to lose contact with my body and it is amazing how we never know our true identities…
im not sure if thats what you were going at with your poem, but that is what it means to me, and i am very glad to have read it.