Anger
She loved the game.
And she wanted to play it every time.
On my Samsung Galaxy S5.
It was just like when Jung Kook said,
Every hour, every minute,
Seven days a week.
When she came back from school,
She only thought of Angry Birds.
Dishes, homework, church—-everything!
Angry birds, angry birds, angry birds.
Till she became one herself.
My dear Melissa,
The sweetest known mammal on earth,
Recently entered her late teens.
Smiling as she passed,
Acknowledging the returned smiles,
And booming with positive vibes,
Being graceful in every way.
But that was the packaging.
She was up in her room again.
Definitely not playing angry birds,
As that would spoil her steeze, Oh Gosh, these kids!
She was with Hannah.
They were talking about something.
Something I couldn't hear clearly
But I know Hannah wouldn't want to hear.
I opened the door.
Hannah was at the opposite end of the room.
Arms patted down.
Flashes a quick smile at me,
And looks back at Melissa,
Who is looking sternly at me.
You're disturbing us, Mom, she says.
Her gaze is a little too fixed to be called natural.
Hannah looks at me. No smiles now.
And I could tell something was wrong.
Melissa held a book.
She'd been drawing something.
Hannah had also been drawing something.
But she was told to stop.
If she continued,
She would have been an abuse to the art community.
She heard it loud and clear.
And yes, the words engraved well in her skull.
The smile she gave was fake.
I could tell she wanted to leave.
But she couldn't.
Because Melissa wouldn't let her.
Do you want her to be told that she's useless?
No, of course not!
Do you want her to go back to being friends with the losers in class?
No, of course not!
Hannah should leave.
I want her to.
Melissa is crossing her limits.
In fifth grade, it was Amelia.
Amelia was her first prey.
The girl who wore glasses.
Had freckles all over,
And was in her fifth month of braces.
Perfect target.
Every two days,
Amelia was told she was uncaring.
Two days later,
There'd be shouting,
All over the place.
At the cafeteria,
On the way home,
And at the grocery store.
Amelia was the problem as she was told.
The Amelia I knew, didn't mind that she wore braces.
She understood why she was wearing them,
But Melissa saw them as a result of her stupidity.
And so Amelia believed,
Because Melissa was always right.
The day she tried to shoplift,
Amelia became Melissa.
She took the blame,
Even though she didn't do anything.
After days of avoidance,
There'd be constant apologies,
Followed by repeating a known pattern.
If Amelia didn't do what she wanted,
Melissa would squeeze her until she does it.
Of every emotion,
Of every self worth she ever managed to gather.
She shouted at the top of her voice,
Screaming at her,
Telling her how unloved and unlucky she's been.
And how Amelia was responsible for everything,
Because she was dumb.
And so Amelia believed even more.
Melissa would drag tables down.
Throwing useless tantrums.
Until she got what she wanted.
I don't want another Amelia in my daughter's life.
It's either she meets a therapist,
Or she goes down to her father.
She needs to make a choice.
@alexanderkass @toche.artworks @zimbaybee What do you think