deepundergroundpoetry.com

Disturbed mind

Myrtle, Myrtle, where are you Myrtle,
why does she not answer,

stop pulling me and pushing me,
leave my pants alone, I don't need the toilet,

where is my mother, she left me here,
I want to go home, that is not my bed,

NO i am waiting for the bus to take me home,
stop yelling at me that is not my bed,

I have to get the bus to Kensington
mum and dad are waiting,

i am not eating that,
I have to go home for tea, it is nearly dark

I am only seven you silly thing

who is Ken?

Alice, yes she is my baby, oh no I have to go home,
where is the bus, it is so late,
my poor little baby she needs her milk,
Why won't you let me go, I have to feed my baby.

Unlock the door,
I can't stay here with all these strange people.

He is coming, I can see him, Ken, Ken, where is Alice,
why did you not bring her, she is hungry,
come on then take me home so I can feed her, quickly.

Oh Alice, come to mummy, there there, here is your milk.

Cassie who? No I never met you before, yes you can stay if you like, would you care to hold Alice, she is just a baby.



Myrtle was my grandma, Ken was my grandad, and Alice my mum.
The Alice I got to hold was a doll we had to take to help gran
with the confusion and anxiety of dementia.
She is at peace now, I tried to imagine what was in her mind, when she spoke so in turmoil, when she went from being a child
to being a mum in a  matter of minutes...so distressing and very sad when I was no longer recognized by her.
Written by cassie
Published
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