Who am I?
I am the Imposter.
I creep inside your body when you’re not looking
And I snip your soul from your flesh
But I don’t let it leave,
Oh, no.
No, no.
I keep it tethered,
Feed off it,
Absorb its very essence—
Absorb your very essence.
And I act in its place.
I change you slowly at first—
An odd action here and there
That you feel is wrong,
That you feel is not you,
Because your tethered soul knows it’s not you
Doing those odd things.
But you think it is you doing those things,
Because who else could it be?
And so I change you,
Bit by bit,
Until you finally open your eyes and realise
Who you are outside
Does not match who you are inside.
Who you are outside,
The one doing these things,
Fits in with the others,
But who you are inside
Is several years younger.
And slowly that gap widens
Until you can’t do anything about it,
Because by then
I’ve made a nice little nest in your flesh
And you don’t even remember who you are.
You can only sit there,
Trapped within your own mind,
Wondering where it all went wrong.