I am the poet who sleeps only minutes in order to stay awake
in your
I am your wasted time trying to get your attention.
I am the one you rarely mention yet always think of.

I am the poet that caused you to fall into love, into hate, into
sex, into celibacy, into insanity and then back into the solitary
confinement of your own mind that gave you permission to
allow me access.

I am the last bill you paid, the check you made, your memory
that fades and your dreams of Bentleys and Escalades.

In fact, I dream for you when you are too lost to hold a late
night thought or when you are too afraid to dream for fear of
getting caught in the reality slot.

Who am I?

I am the poet you wanted to keep away from your heart and
out of your political realm and pushed forward to the end so
my vibe wouldn’t interrupt your start.

I am freedom thoughts ready to free you from the
incarceration of the world’s ways.

I am the poet who monitors your days and then closes them
with poetry that you needed to hear.

Who am I?

I am really nobody, waiting for somebody like you to feel me!
Who Am I?
by Terry Moore
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The Scrambler