I wrote this poem very recently, 19 September 2026, based on a feeling that always haunts me. The feeling like I have lost a very important part of myself, but can't quite identify where I lost this piece of myself. I remember being another version of myself, but the experiences and knocks of life have erased these parts of myself and they now sit in my mind like a piece of dusty furniture in the corner of a room, that carry sentimental value, but is of no real use. I feel that there are many people that can relate to this feeling. The image was a prompt on social media. Upon research, it appears to be a stylised modification to the final scene of 'The Matrix', which I feel is ironically appropriate, considering the poem was written without this context. Enjoy.
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