And, even after all this time,
My ego plots and schemes
To carry out the perfect crime
And realise its dreams.
Although I know it’s nothing more
Than cobwebs on the breeze,
I find it harder to ignore
Than some severe disease.
But this is how it’s always been
And, yes, shall always be:
My ego’s like a harlequin
Who makes a fool of me.
And yet, because it’s in my head,
I’ll live with it until I’m dead.
Photo by Dawin Rizzo on Unsplash
My Ego
