I Poem by Glenn Anderson

The truth is clear, but not the why,
The lines are filled with mine and my;
It matters not the topic chosen,
The method's fixed, cold, stiff and frozen!

Despite great effort made to change,
The process ends up rather strange.
It is quite difficult to try
To write and ration me and I.

The reader cannot help but see
Each rhyme describes a bit of me!
They speak of what and how I feel
Conveying what I think is real,

In words not worthy to be heeded-
Words quite unsought and quite unneeded.
The worst of it, so harshly true,
Is that, when all my writing's through,

I little care if others heed it-
I'm not content 'til others read it! ! !
Again, I am embarrassed by
So much of me, mine, my, and I!