She is Me

by Esme Layton

She is me.

And yet she is not.
She is programmed;
An ancient computer coded with instinct,
An animal without society’s laws.

She is the beast I have locked inside.
For she is neither attractive,
Nor is she reasonable.
I cannot trust her
And I do not love her.

Her cold eyes are childlike;
She has not yet learnt to love another, only herself.
Her grasping hands are claw-like;
She has not yet learnt to share, only to snatch.
But she will never learn.

Her love for me is simple;
She wants me to survive.

She is the one who could draw
The acid from my stomach
And flush out my illness.
She is the one who could slit
The innocent animal’s throat,
A gift to my starvation.

She is my protector.
She is my abhorrence.

She is me.