(It’s) Me, Myself, and I
We make such a guy
Not one of us can stand to be around
A mismatch such as we
I, Myself, and Me
Each wish the other two would be out bound
I argue with Myself
Fling insults from the shelf
Of discontent, for want of privacy
Then it’s Me across the room
In voice of utter gloom
“We’re stuck inside this human trinity”
I try to break away
From Myself each day
Yet in the mirror He’s looking back at Me
Each of Us wish a way
To call the other’s They
But can’t escape this Our reality
Can’t We get along
As one We sing a song
It’s simple, strange and in parts harmony
Together live We must
Until We’re windblown dust
This almost love-hate seems an irony
We’ve lived together now
For years and yet some how
Not one has tried to kill the other two
It seems life still goes on
Each day through dusk and dawn
Could this be a hope for Me and You
Now wait! Who is this You?
The three of Us don’t do
A quartet in the mind that’s known as We
It’s ME, MYSELF, and I
Our trio standing by
To vanquish anyone who is not me (or myself, or I.)
From the mind of Ray Winkleman 10/18 ©2012
