"Who am I?" You ask.
I am the wind blown through the trees on a bitterly cold evening.
I am the shadow in the corner of the room, catching your eye for only a second.
I am the deja vu idea of something you feel like you're always forgetting.
I am nothingness yet I still appear before you.
Am I just your mind playing tricks, in an endless game of reality?
Or am I the myth of something not quite real, living in the limbo of life and death?
My first poem with out any attempt at rhyming. Any feedback is awesome!! Thanks!