The Other Woman

The other women who lives in my skin
I know her well, yet she is not my kin.

She needs no sleep, she keeps me up,
her day begins when i am ready to stop.

I retire to bed with a full day behind me,
she is not a bit tired, unwilling to rest,
I have to oblige her, knowing what's best.

She wants a snack, perhaps a drink,
Reluctantly i join her, am unable to think.

Ending with an orgy of a healthy mini feast,
some vodka, hot or cold sake or a tea at least,
I end up being the beauty to that thankless beast.

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