Ha ha I just found this in draft on my phone, clearly, I was not having a good day when I wrote it. :-).
If you don’t do, gross, then i highly recommend you hit the back button, now. This is a poem about menstruation, yep. :-). It’s a subject that is not written about often enough, not in its true form.
I hate you, i actually fucking hate you,
a myth created centuries ago,
To smooth the transition,
Into the crimson flow.
It ain’t a fucking blessing,
Or mother nature caressing,
You, are, a, fucking curse,
You are, fucking, worse.
A gift straight from Eve,
Can you believe?
Here my dear child,
Go fucking wild.
The crimson flows
Like nobody knows,
A torrent of clot filled blood,
ripping through you,
Filthy like mud,
Too dirty to screw.
As you soak right through.
Tauntingly painful as you prickle,
The scar,
Pushing me out into the dark.
Taunting reminder,
Of the loss not the gain,
Of the darkness and evil that sometimes reign.
It’s not enough to cause me pain,
Or wash my iron stores down the drain,
You constantly remind,
The pain i did find,
The tears that once fell,
The story i don’t tell.
