The Hardest Knife Ill Us’d Doth Lose His Edge

Shakespeare, sonnet 95

I keep erasing the next line because it can’t stop looking at itself
In the mirror and maybe if I got new glasses my edge would stop
Roaming the streets looking for someone who would appreciate
What it hides in its pockets and if I could find a way to stop
Talking to myself in the third person then the wind would find
What I threw in the lake where the fish gorge and can’t stop
Eating each other’s young and if I could just get my edge back
Then the second person and the bowtie it wears would stop
Turning my friends against the beanie and its propeller  
Because no one believes cause and effect will find a way to stop
Its attack on the first person and if I would just learn to quit
Wishing all that noise outside would find a way to stop
So I could get some sleep and get myself back into shape
For the day when this off key singing in my chest will stop