She kills.

She speaks louder, sharper, shriller than I do,
When I unconsciously pass on an old man or a young girl
or any person, old, middle-aged or young,
In need of a simple hand,
Maybe just a smile
Without even noticing their existence,
She curses! She shouts.
She says I kill her every single day,
Subtly yet deeply,
I strangle her,
Let alone allowing her to boom,
She says I am an assassin,
A failure, and a prick of compunction,
She always feels.
She says I am an annoyance,
A miscreant, she deals with,
The living one,
Who kills,
Her conscience and her humanity,
For the homage, my survival pays to my existence!