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,