"Moods" by Eric von Bayer Sometimes sitting in the dark, I wonder who I was today, Stranger things I did or said, Weren't altogether within my normalness, I fear I hurt you carelessly, But I still cry "it wasn't me." But then unsurity asks... "Was it?" Experiences in infinite history, shape ourselves in ways we do not see. But at least I apologize, "I wasn't me" But my conscience nags... "Was I?"