Where can I go ?

I’m here again,

no matter how much I try to avoid this place,

I am forcefully sent here.

I hear the shout and curse at gate,

as she chides me why I have come again,

pestering her the whole day,

and she howls at her unfortunate luck,

of looking after me once again.

I wonder anew,

If that woman is actually my mother’s sister,

I listen in hush,

she rages on about my mother & father,

how my parents can’t take care of me,

And how they’ve chosen to earn than heed me,

Ire on my parents grows high,

She doesn’t allow me anywhere in house,

except the tiny boundary of the small chair.

I sit,

I look around,

I think,

I wish for the day I’m independent—

of my parents,

of this aunt,

of my dependence.

But where can I actually go?...

I hope for liberty...

—Written from the outlook of my cousin sister.