She is not me; I am not her. Her voice shakes when she speaks, her screams are unheard. I live life on the edge while she stays in bed, and only moving around when she’s trying to get out of her head.  Her mind is her home, her heart is a stone, and although we are different she never leaves me alone.  She’s a stalking stranger, obsessed with the fear of danger. I am a victim of her franchise: loving all that happiness can buy, but somehow when she’s sad, I’m the only one who cries.  This panic is her job, one that no one else can rob, and I always miss work whenever her presence lurks.  They tell me we are the same, but she’s really the one to blame, and I might go insane if she doesn’t stop stealing from my brain.                                                                                           -akl