it's not that late it's still early I'm not that sleep I'm still awake underneath a full moon looking at some stuff I wrote telling myself write some more should I or should I ignore the voice in my head count the blessings and up the score pages upon pages books galore author and finisher since the dinosaur like memories life kept from me the day I was born my first birthday the first steps I took the first words I uttered to put a sentence together these are things I wish I could remember all the things I couldn't fit in a infant brain I can only imagine everything base on witnesses testimonies I wish I was in the room on a Monday afternoon at 3:55 pm to see myself pushed out the womb count my fingers and toes touch my little nose look into my eyes and tell myself you're destine for greatness maybe I was there maybe I did do and say all that but my underdeveloped prefrontal cortex didn't allow me to retain the story about how my life began I can only imagine I guess I suppose I can't grasp the starting point of memory lane