It starts out a little top heavy
with a first line so weighted down with its own importance
that it has to sink to the second (or even third) stanza -
the spark of an idea around which the softer lines crowd.
It usually has a trail of water drops leading up to it
because all good ideas strike in the shower
(it's always the shower)
and will be lost in the time it takes to comb or dry or dress.
It's never quite happy in its own skin
but lacks the will to be anything else

It shouts to be seen but doesn't want to be observed
it looks a lot like me
mixed with a lot of "not me"
and it's never sure which of those it wants you to believe is true.
It's content on its own
(although maybe that's a virtue of necessity)
but it never gives up hope
of touching and being touched.
It wants to be felt, not read.
It wants to lead a quiet life in the pauses between your thoughts
but thinks it's probably more like a