Caged.

Filled with bottles of emotion,

I am a time bomb

waiting for the moment of truth.

Dreams are for dreamers;

the substance of self.

I can’t remember mine,

not those formed in sleep

or while awake.

I can tell you my name,

my age, my number,

describe my frame:

but I can’t tell you who I am

anymore than I can tell you who God is.

I am lost,

looking for a way

and finding none.