By Michelle Vongkaysone
My name was Veronica.
My profession accidentally bore me a clone.
Unable to explain myself, I took her in.
She was me, and I, her.
My true image.
Familiarity soon bred contempt.
Her ‘defects’ reflected as my own, the most brutal sort of honesty.
Driven by ire and disgust, I lured her forth.
I felled her right there, a triumph over self.
Even then, I couldn’t feel remorse for it.
Her life was hers, not mine.
Even so, I couldn’t stand it any more.
Her true image was more than I could bear.
And that’s why I’m not Veronica any more.
Thought provoking idea. I wonder what her profession was. I wonder if her clone shared her feelings. I thought of the book called Never Le Me Go.
A nice commentary about how it is often difficult to live with ourselves. “I don’t like who I was, so I’m not that person anymore!” Good job.
Her profession accidentally bore her a clone…Wow!
Great story. Thoughts we have all had in an intriguing metaphor.