Me, myself never was good at picking a title,
For any poem or even the skit that I wrote.
I’d often struggle to entertain my readers,
By capturing their intriguing eyes with a title.

Though I thought I was unfortunate,
I thought of someone that would be,
In a worst case scenario.
This person is “I”.

Bitter sweet essence,
Of an unforgivable life.
“I” would often forget,
Its present and past within seconds.

“I” would constantly come in contact with “Remember”,
But often forget his friend “When”.
Life’s precautious boundaries,
Would never let “I” choose the course.

“I” would only have options life gave.
Instead “I” would only live to groan,
To become the victim of another circumstance,
Because “Remember” left “I” after  completely forgetting “When”.

Sorrow passive to the soul,
“I” would speak about a unforgettable title,
That would only whisk away,
Me, and myself.


© Robyn G Neymour