There is a petty me who always whines
That I deserve to win the race because
I entered it, and loathes the little swines
Who see me and don’t greet me with applause.
There is a lonely me who falls in love
Because it feeds his insecurities
And always proves that I’m unworthy of
Happiness, satisfaction, and heart’s ease.
And there’s an angry me who feeds on hate,
An empty me who swallows all my dreams,
A vengeful me who yearns to dominate,
And a sly me who bides his time and schemes.
And I will only draw a happy breath
When I can starve each one of them to death.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells
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