Thursday, 24 November 2016

Periods: A Poetic Tribute


Help me, help me, my uterus is shedding
I’m cramping, I’m moody and I’ve ruined all my bedding.
Try not to pity me, I’ll take it on the chin
but please don’t acknowledge the contents of my bin.

Love me, love me, I’m feeling so unhinged
I’m paranoid of panty lines and extra bloat from where I’ve binged.
You’d think after 10 years, I’d know what I was doing
but every 4 weeks, I fear the bloody monster that is brewing.

Leave me, leave me, I just want to be alone
but on the other hand I’m horny because I’m a walking hormone.
I’ve never felt less attractive and my vaginas a crime scene
you say I’m overly sensitive, WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!

Humour me, humour me, allow my bitchy ways
I didn’t request the privilege of non stop bleeding for days.
Toilet trips are traumatizing and you’ll never understand
as if my day couldn’t any get worse, I just got some on my hand.

Kill me, kill me, I can’t take decades more of this,
the excuse to not have sex is the only part I’d miss.
But now the crimson wave is ending and my woes are harder to find…
so you know when I requested you kill me? Yeah…never mind.

(During a recent visit from 'Aunt Flow', I was brimming with emotions and decided to channel these feelings in to a somewhat graphic poem. Soooo there's my tribute to that special time of the month…)