My made-up self gets through the day
By always taking action.
Although it’s nonsense, that’s the way
It gains its satisfaction.

It loads a burden on its back
To show the world it’s busy
And likes to paint its eyeballs black
To keep from feeling dizzy.

It runs like rivers through the night
To reach its goal by morning,
And, every time it sees the light,
It sounds the bell of warning.

The strangest part of this consists
In thinking that my self exists.

Photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash

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