She
She resides in me
And fed upon my blood
She has nothing except what I have
Yet she never becomes mine
Once I ask her to pose for me what I am not
Sternly she refuses on my face saying that
Her only work to be true to myself
And to tell me bluntly if I am bad
Or do some good irrespective of what is my show
Brave or bold at the front
Calling her an ingratitude leech
I decide to punish her
But astonishingly I find that
She is the proud owner of me
I am just her a bin, a house
If she stops twittering
Within minutes I cease to exist,
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------she is my soul like a bird always twittering .
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