Him, Himself, and I
He makes so much sense.
He sees how I see, and thinks how I think.
If only I could talk to him, then maybe we could be real good freinds,
yet he leads me, he tugs my hand and head everywhere, but never aknowledges me,
Although, he seems to follow me.
If we ever lock eyes we forget everything yet know it all.
Blindness comes fast.
Pain is felt by the both of us, even if one is hurt.
If he dies, so do I.
Good thing we're the same person.
This poem is about:
Me