This is one of the rare times I write poetry as I'm not the best at it, but this is something that I kinda wanted to write up.

I hope this gives an sort of insight to all of you about who I am.

Also, no particular rhyme scheme as once again I'm not a real poet per say...

So yeah... I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to leave any thoughts that you have in the comments.

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Where Am I?


I reach out for a goal, and take keyboard in hand with me.

I write for pleasure of those beyond the screen, yet I feel no accomplishment.

Where am I, in the words that I write?


I want to write what I love, and shift away from the shifting words.

I write the musings of one who loves the interest of shifting, yet I tire and love it at the same time.

Where am “I”, the one who believes himself the creature that he has created for himself.


I help others and hope that someday that I might repay some sin I have committed, yet this sin eludes me.

I write without want, yet I want something more than I write, but is that selfish of me who writes for the pleasure of others?

“Where am I”, the question still sticks in my head as I try to figure out who I am both in front of the screen, and beyond where I walk around a place of learning that demands so much of me, but why can’t “I” give what it asks of me?


He hopes for so much, and has an impatience that he deplores about himself, and a depression that pokes at him, but does not let it take him over.

He writes for acknowledgement, and to build the skills for a job that he longs to obtain, but the impatience takes over and he rushes to complete jobs that he wants to push farther.

Where is he, the writer who loves all, yet fears that no one loves him?


I am here.