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Will I Ever Find Me? ©

H Marshall

In this macaronic verse,
I must find me,
Without appearing magniloquent.

What does me mean?
Is it my mien?
As I match my moves in the mirror.

And how does I
Relate to me?
For people call me, you.

And what about my?
Does that not mean mine,
When mine belongs to me?

In the maelstrom of life,
This mélange of thoughts,
Gives me much to manducate.

For as in monistic thought,
My matter and my mind,
Make up most of me.

Without being morose,
I've mooted much about myself,
And mused about my morphology.

This mumbled muse about me and I,
Has long mystified so many ----
Maybe I will find me mañana.

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