Re: we three

You could say she's a character,
and you wouldn't be wrong,
but you'd also be not quite right,
because she's really three characters in one.

This isn't the first I've written re: dissociative identity disorder,
and it likely won't be the last time I put my hand to it,
given my firsthand experience with an illness that's lasted my entire adult life.
Not me,
but another from the same mother.
She's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet.
Hi, I'd like to introduce you to my mom.
Stay the fuck away from her or we'll kill you.
And lo,
the sound of poetry editors crushing each other underfoot as they rush to inform me of my error —
Interpreting your own poem,
as you've just done above,
is akin to explaining your own joke,
for it removes the magic therefrom.
But of course magic is not magic at all,
but merely misdirection,
and so I dismiss their exhortation to change,
and we move thence to our third and final stanza.

He's about to hit publish when he realizes there's something weird re: stanzas one and two —
He doesn't remember writing either of them.