The Art of MenstruationA Poem by FoxemeraldWARNING, FEMALE ISSUES!! The struggles and confusion of a young girl who has just come into her womanhood.
Indecisive, not knowing what to do I watch
The ticking of the clock strike ten, and the long hand start To move. My hand strays over the fabric of the Battleship. Blood. A metallic smell that makes me Want to be sick, a fire that rages down in the Burning pit below, and the feeling I simply can’t digest when all of my Inners begin to get weak and fall into the Charcoal pit Of embers and ick. What is going on inside, can’t the Parts of my gut go back up and subside where they can Forever hide! If there’s something at work I don’t want to Know it, if something is wrong can’t a doctor make me White like a snowman. I don’t want to bleed into my Underwear tonight, but I’d hate to go to my father and have him make It right. © 2022 FoxemeraldReviews
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2 Reviews Added on April 20, 2022 Last Updated on April 20, 2022 AuthorFoxemeraldMIAboutHi, So, I see you’ve found me. Since the excitement and mystery of being the ‘anonymous writer’ has been shorn, let me tell you a little more about myself. I graduate with a Bache.. more..Writing
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