THE ME

A “Me” was born
From two other “Me’s”,
Eyes still closed while he
Rooted around for purchase.

The “Me’s” mouth 
Formed a perfect “O”
And meeped out his first sentence. . .
. . . “Me” . . .

The maternal and paternal
“Me’s” exclaimed
Proud of what they’d created,
“He is of We”

The “Me’s” little fist 
Thrumbed rhythmical time
As if to say, “Nay!
Ye are for Me”. . .

And the “Me” latched on
As tight as could be
As if to suck the “We”
Out of the “She” . . .

The three went off together
Out to show the world
What “Me’s” can be
When they are a “We” . . .

The little “Me” in tow
Wasn’t sure he wanted it, though.
A “We” was much too much work.
So he moped around meeping his “Me” . . .

He went off to school
To prove to the “We’s”
How central and strong his “Me” was.
Much stronger than all the “those’s”.

“My “Me” is the best “Me”
I am “Me’er” than the rest!”
He competed with all other “Me’s”,
Determined to be the best.

Soon the other “Me’s” 
Bowed down to the “Me”
And changed their words to
“Me is for He”

And they set him tall
Upon a platform of “those’s”
Unison chanting from all,
“We are for He”

The “Me” did some “this”
And the “Me” did some “that”
And time passed as it is wont to,
While he bided on top in repose.

Then another “Me” rose
To challenge his “Me”.
For a new “Me” to impose,
And took the place on the top.

The little “Me” faltered,
Unable to maintain
His own identity. . .
Nor even to make a change. . .

He yammered about good times
And postured for lesser “those”
Then stooped over and wobbled,
Unable to lower his high nose

And he ended his days
Trying to meep his “Me”
His mouth forming an imperfect “O”
To the backs of all the “those”

By cindy
4/1/2019