Sometimes I lose myself.

I don't know where I go.

I sit around and grope blindly, on my hands and knees,
but it is always futile and
my hands come up empty.

I shout down endless, impersonal hallways;
my voice echoes and disperses;
it dies:

"Where are you?"

And then
coming from that hallway way, way, way down there,
a response from a meek and pitiful voice:

"I don't know."

And I never know what to say.