Line up two by two
Nice and tidy, all of you
This is Noah's hay queue.

A poem with an awkward rhyme
Is like a bell, with an off-key chime
The craftsmanship has gone all wrong
Like a perfume, with a hint of pong
Of course our poems don't have to rhyme
But I like it better

I have missed me,
I’m just not the same,
Someone else must be using my name.

Some days I feel just like a pair of hands
As if I’m invisible, no-one sees me at all.
Other days I feel like a clock, ticking my life away,
Or perhaps a clouded crystal ball,
Stared at but not really seen.

I still miss me,
Still not the same,
Someone else must be using my name.

I don't think it’s in me to love you anymore,
I wish things could have been like before,
But I needed love too
I have my heart to restore.

So I miss me,
I’m still not the same,
Someone else must be using my name.

Walking alone, down memory lane,
Trying to find the traces of what’s left of me,
But I see someone I just don’t recognize,
Someone who’s no longer me.

Oh how I miss me,
When I’m not the same,
For so long someone’s been using my name.

Am I still intact inside,
Or have parts of me already died?
These gaping holes may be the parts I’ve lost
But I’ll repair my soul at any cost.

I miss me,
I’m just not the same,
Trapped inside,
And screaming my name.

I'm so glad
that no one cares about
Me
or what I write
or what I do
or who I am
or what I think I am
Because if someone
Did
I might be forced
to care a little about
Someone else  
which is terribly inconvenient for
Me
and what I write
and what I do
and who I am
and what I think I am