She was robbed of sanity,
In the bloom of her youth-
My ageing, unmarried sister.
Schizophrenia, the doctors had diagnosed.
I wanted her-
Let’s say, “removed”
From my world.
Such was my revulsion
For her, who plagued my life
With her poisonous presence.
But now,
I see her in her innocence, I
Refused to see when she was alive.
Cured of her incurable illness in grim death,
Now, she seems to have nothing against me-or, even-
To plead guilty for being a blot on my contented life.
Eyes that once emitted fire,
Are fast closed.
It’s the bomb
That freed her, from her inheritance
And cured me,
Of my coldness.

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