Guess who just got their period, guys.
I feel like there's something inside of me,
Clawing my walls, churning my stomach round,
tearing at my womb with tiny, malicious hands,
all for a little bit of blood.
I know I need it, well, according to Mum,
one day I'll want a child, one of my own.
So it seems pointless to bleed now, even if it's
just a little bit of blood.
It's not just the stain, it's the emotions too,
all the ups and downs, the days spent crying
then the bouts of anger, it's pointless really,
all over a little bit of blood.
The boys don't understand, and I can't explain
why one day I want to play, and other times hide.
I can't tell him, he'd think I'm gross, for
producing a little bit of blood.
I get it though, Mum's right, I want a baby,
a little me to look after and love,
know I'm made something, somehow
from a little bit of blood.
YOU ARE READING
Random poems
PoetryListen, right, I'm no poet. I'm typically a fanfiction writer for Merlin's sake, but hey, how are you ever going to learn if you never try?
