Behind the atoms of self.

Just another weird poem!

No longer do I like self.
For self is selfish,
Self is self righteous.
Self does not share,
self slams the door,
self lives alone.

There is no joy in self
self is miserable,
self is contained
within itself,
self likes to be
left alone.

I do not like self,
and yet self is everywhere
for the very atoms
of my existence
are made from self.

I must not give in to self
under self’s control
or seek self help.

Knock! Knock!
Who’s there?
Self!
Self who?
Arr! You see!
I have lost self.