I wrote a poem and found out that in the first and last lines of each stanza there was something else. Check it out.

-Forgotten Days

A mist a pulse

A whisper in the back

Ground into you

Alive through you

To say to move

To be anything more than

Nothing is forever

I’m somethings formed together

Each part each cell

Is for nothing then

If not a thought

That starts and stops

That is what I am

A mist a pulse

At thought

You

An end a death

Found in a forgotten day

Every experence changes us

Every lost memory fades to dust

What I am what I was

Equates to shapes of smoke

Never the same

Frame to frame

Doesn’t matter never did

Did I realize this as a kid

To see the world as small as dust

To leave my dreams alone to rust

The first lines make this sentence - A mist, a pulse, to say, to move, each part, each cell that is what I am. An end, a death, what I am, what I was doesn’t matter, never did.

The second lines make this sentence - Alive through you, I am somethings formed together that starts and stops you. Every lost memory fades to dust frame to frame to leave my dreams alone to rust.

I was thinking about how every forgotten memory takes away from what we are, because all we are, it seems, are memory’s of new experiences. And that this earth is nothing more than a spec of dust.

But really  I wouldn’t have posted this, mainly because I think it sucks, but the first and last line things made me do it.