Do you ever have those moments where everything, but nothing makes sense? That is where I was at when I wrote this.

Lost and Found

Of all the times I’m lost, I find I’m lost more than I’m found,
For when I start to find myself it appears I’m not around.
You see when I’m lost it’s hard to feel as if I have been seen,
Am I here? Or am I there? Or somewhere in between?
Maybe if I find myself I will know that I’m around,
But somehow I get lost again, trying to be found