Is a poem really a poem?
If I write it in a moment,
Leave little to remember,
and most to be forgotten?

Is a poem really a poem?
If I leave myself out,
Write only what you wanted,
Leave the dark of doubt?

Is this really a poem?
Wasting space and time,
In my Literature class,
While allowing a tiny rhyme?

Could life be a poem?
If I become too philosophic,
Allow myself to wonder,
When all else has been,
forgotten..?