I find myself too concerned with "me, myself and I."
I need to give me a rest!
I need to find a chest of drawers
Without me in it;
Where my old clothes aren't hiding,
Where I can find a pair of your old socks
to put on me.
There I go again, you see?!
(This really isn't such a simple matter!)
I would be you for a day if I could.
But,even if I should try on your skin
I'd only end up stretching it
this way and that to fit ME!
Life is an intricate puzzle I think
But how can I put it together
If I'm just a spatter in each of its pieces?
I'm like a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup;
I am the object no matter how I see it,
No matter how I choose to open it and eat it.
There I am, all cut up with nothing but clones of ME!
Boy, am I stretching my Point to idiocy!
I have always prided myself on my objectivity,
(note the sentence above contains 3 of me!!!)
Yet now, as I've come to bluntly see
Through my 'silly-putty' poetry
that I have justly lost this battle.
For I can find only one measly line
Lurking about in my overlong rhyme
In which "I" wasn't the subject of prattle!