Every month,

Always a surprise,

The agonizing pain,

Sometimes brings tears to my eyes.

 

It starts in my belly,

Swollen and sore,

My legs feel like jelly,

Just when I thought I could endure no more.

 

The knives stab,

The blades twist,

Subtle, internal explosions,

Sudden rage and silent violence.

 

My back moans,

From deep within my bones.

My head throbs

Quietly, as it sobs.

 

My eyes grow heavy,

My hands grow weak.

My stomach still churning,

I drift off to sleep

 

Not so gracefully, one might say.

Blood, blood, so much blood.

Warm, sticky, gooey,

A river that runs all day.

 

My children, they cry.

Flushing away the potential,

Remembering you are not

Stuffed with another human being.

 

No, you are alone,

With no one to love,

For you are not grown,

You are still a baby dove.

 

While you mourn,

Your body sheds a bloody tear

As you waste away,

Year after goddamn year.

 

Still, you must know

That you are so grateful

To not be so old,

But instead be so young and so graceful.

 

A child is not fit

To be raised by another.

Both lives burn into shit,

Thanks to a regretful teenage mother.

 

Innocence dies quickly,

The young become old and sickly.

No day goes by, when

No one cries.

 

Every month,

Always a surprise,

The sudden rush of relief,

A sigh in brief goodbye

 

To another egg,

Saved from a tragic life.

The blood is a happy reminder

You don’t have to be a wife.

 

Stay strong and stay steady,

For babies are born

When you are ready

To be old and to be torn.

 

Mother knows best.

Nature’s does, too.

If you haven’t figured that out yet,

Please get a clue.

 

So long! Farewell!

Live young and live free.

Until next month,

My Daughter of the Sea.