Self Portrait

There was a little name,

Tied to a little soul,

Which sang out joy and shame from deep within a round stone bowl.

It had two eyes for vision,

When not obscured with tears,

And open ears to listen though they seldom tried to hear.

One day the name felt lonely,

So, it tried to draw itself,

But it stopped once it could see it looked like everybody else.

The little name sits laughing,

And will still when it’s dead,

Each time one reads this passage and should smile at what was said.