Why Can’t I Find the Key?
2 min readFeb 10, 2021
Stream of Consciousness Prose Poetry
Traveling through this tunnel of despair, distraught by thoughts of loss — of grip, of self, of sight of what’s ahead. Existential Dread of what awaits at the end of the line. So fine a line of demarcation, between days of exultation and painful sublimation of all I thought I knew of who I was. Who am I if I don’t recognize myself? Is it who I believe me to be or who you see? What…