The Other Girl

The other girl

looks tired.

Poor thing, 

she is trying so hard

to be good.

She is distant.

I'm watching her

through a pane of glass.

I see her mouth move

but hear no words.

With my mind

I cut her image in two.

It reassembles

and continues  

to mouth shapes.

The other girl,

who lives in my mirror,

looks like me —

my face, my features,

but not my spirit.

She is robot-girl,

coping with duty.

Me, I am light and airy,

free to remove myself

farther and farther.

I wouldn't want

to be her,

even though I made her.

She's a doll, a shell.

She saves me. 

I leave the work

to her. I leave, 

I feel no pain. 

And she does not feel pain.

She does not feel.

(Another piece not suitable in a collection for children!

Based on a story someone told me; not autobiographical. 
The person concerned did recover from this episode.)

Poetic Asides November Poem A Day Chapbook Challenge, day 9: The other (blank)