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My great grandmother,

She did suggest to me,

That I endeavour,

To get along with mom.

 

To this did I agree,

Besides, a promise had I made,

To Aunt Premala that I would,

And my gran,

She had to twist the knife,

By  sarcastically commenting,

I would say yes when asked,

Yet go home,

And do as I liked.

 

Another time do I recall,

When hearing something,

That my great grandmother said,

My gran did snap,

That she spoke rubbish,

And my dad left my mom,

Which is untrue of course.

 

I did remind myself,

Of dad's advice,

To ignore them,

And of my stepmother's words.

That they were just,

Trying to provoke me,

Yet it was difficult,

To be totally disaffected.

 

I caught hold of the towel rail,

And sank to the ground,

Fresh tears flowing from my eyes,

And mentally begged,

My stepsister to hold me,

As she had done,

The night of July 16th 2004.

 

Finally gathering my strength,

Slowly did I rise,

Into my great grandmother's room,

Did I go,

And stood in front of the mirror,

A little weakened,

By this extensive weeping.

 

I was another day,

Deep in a boook,

When asked to go out,

With my aunt and cousin.

I politely declined,

Yet typically my aunt,

She would not lt it drop.

 

It was then that I,

Made an error of judgement,

I longed to hurt them,

As they had hurt me,

To take back the power,

To be in control.

 

I recalled my study of Othello,

That when the villain,

He was most honest,

He was disbelieved,

As when he exchanged,

His witty banter,

With Desdemona and Cassio,

He was not taken seriously,

Yet his opinions,

Were surprisingly close,

To his solliloques.

 

Burning with anger,

And indignation,

I couldn't resist,

I blurted out,

That I had depression,

Fully expecting,

Disbelief, scepticism,

The usual cynicism,

And to produce a scene,

Dripping with dramatic irony,

Saturated with subtext,

Yet to my horror,

My aunt and gran did believe me.

The End

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