I am the voice that tells you to pick up the scissors
and stab the sleeping old woman in the eye.
You put the thought out of your mind by switching on the TV
to a cartoon about dead children.
In another voice,
I tell you there is nothing out of the ordinary
about the creeping wish to kill.
You’ve lived enslaved to this woman for so long,
in this
house of dying shadows, why not end it?
I teach you a lesson about fate, of the strings you’re tied to,
and the act needed to cut yourself free.
Imagine the old woman was murdered and buried
before you
were even brought here and gifted to her.
With no eyes and no hands, she will be your slave, locked below.
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