In Mind Or Body?

There is another voice inside my head she is so much so my own I wonder who she is but her response goes unknown I can feel her watching, i beg to know her name she only just keeps smiling and keeps me playing her games. Sick and twisted ways, they all just make he smile she just seems to be waiting now and has been for a while, her words are my own but twisted with spite her world is black and void staining red from white. Her world is from behind a mirror mine is center stage she's the puppeteer of our show premiering the monsters of her rage; we complete each other here and there my beginning at her end If I am the memory she is the moment If I am the broken she is the mend. Sometimes we have no difference but the number of slices If she is a cure am I the sickness, or if she is the new am I the vices? To all we would rather forget but she knows all the memories hidden lovingly puts them on display and she claims the heart forbidden, and so we take out places as the curtain begins to rise the audience beyond is waiting for me to recite her lines.