Classic Poem

It isn't she who rends me so —
no, it isn't she.
These eyes aren't hers that hate me so —
no, they aren't hers.
Nor this her breath that flaunts me,
nor these her strangling arms.

It isn't I who rends me so —
no, it isn't I.
This heart isn't mine that goads me on —
no, this isn't mine.
Nor these my thoughts that flay me,
nor this my sneering soul.

Nor that her whip that lashes me,
nor that my whip that lashes me —
no, that isn't ours.