Each time I get ready to write, a different person writes their life story.
I'm not sure if I'm to be scared, or fascinated.
Imagine, I've written so many poems, yet, the person writing this isn't the person who wrote the last.
Each poem is different; each person is different.
When I read over this one, and the first one, and the one after this, I'll not remember putting pen to paper.
For, once again,a completely different ego will be reading these words too.
The question is: which ego are you?
