Ego is on the poetic couch
ranting with quelled off rhyme.
Super adds adjectives
redoubling manic-depressive lines.
Id is on a nature walk
photographing what could have beens.
I'm sitting here collecting notes
taking it all on the chin.
Ego points to a drip declaring;
'You have leaks in your thoughts.'
Super hammers wood and nails
building the better mind he bought.
Id is naked rolling on the grass
with girls of yesteryear.
I record what all of this means
in a footnote referenced 'Fear.'
Ego tires of the pain,
rejection and uncertainness;
Super misplaced plans to his mind
and succumbs to his own duress.
Id is climbing the tallest pine
that he may view what is lost.
All three pointing at me, claiming
they want Carl Jung as their boss.
Ego scraps his will and survives
entirely by habit and rote.
Super screams; 'I'm out of this place, '
but can't seem to button his coat.
Id is ordering a large marble stone
digging a shallow grave.
I am writing four epitaphs bearing;
'None of us could be saved.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great write indeed....thank u....