The Statue Poem by Tex T Sarnie

There's a statue I've discovered in my psyche
it's appearance is that of stone.
It reasons, thinks, and talks to me about life.
How can a figment advise a creature of skin and bone?

Forget about a standing post gathers no wisdom.
Psychology is this statue's specialty.
It says that it absorbs enormous amounts of knowledge
and most of it doesn't come from me.

The statue is now doing my head in.
He's so full of himself and never takes a rest.
It may well be tremendously knowledgeable,
but it's a statue I'm beginning to detest.

This morning I told it to leave my psyche
and to go out and find pastures new,
but it insisted that I still needed instruction,
so I must get used to its points of view.

Tomorrow I'm going to the doctors
and describe what's happening to me.
Maybe he will send me to a psychiatrist,
until then I'll just have to wait and see.