Misunderstood Inflections Poem by mike ruthenbeck

Tell me, Muse, what pays the current going
Rate of reason, if you please, existing,
What ways, true friend, are you others showing
What Beacon shinning on coastline misting?
Tell me, Muse, of such vices and manners
What sort of custom social masquerade
Upon your clothing, what corporate banners?
Tell me, with Occam's Razor as your blade
Why are you existing in this reason?
How on Earth has this present you occur'd?
Can one for better; or without, treason
The 'you' I perceive, can one be so sure?
Peering deeply, past vague self projections
The 'you' and the 'I' are both quite the same
'we' stay just misunderstood inflections
Disenfranchised from when 'we' first became.
For though 'I' change, and grow, and become free,
'I' still remain, quintessentially, 'Me'