This is the story of an -i-,
lonely as lonely can be,
for daily she found herself adrift
amidst only islands of -WE-.
Try as she might to come ashore
nought worked – no effort nor plea,
for the -WE-‘s did not know what to do with an -i-
(in the past they had all just been -ME-‘s.)
“An -i-? You’re a freak.
There’s no island for you,
this isn’t the refuge you seek.
Now begone on your driftwood, on on far away,
you’ve already had more than a peek.
Your form is all wrong
though you might mean the same,
but an -i- is not quite a -ME-;
flip -ME- upside down it’s -WE- you will see,
but an -i-? What could there possibly be?
An -i- upside down is but -!-
– an exclamation of anxiety –
you’re connected not even to yourself
yet you wish to become a -WE-?”
So the -i- sailed away, and still sails today,
under a sky devoid completely of stars,
sans celestial guidance to orient herself,
and with hope grown evermore sparse.
Her voyage unknown to maritime charts,
no map nor compass in hand;
treading deep waters with a sorrowful heart,
still searching for somewhere to land.


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