A Period Of Pain.

This monthly visitor with her unwanted pains.


Bringing with her tummy aches and migraines.

She might as well flog me repeatedly with a cane.

Her bag contains all the pimples a woman could possibly gain.

Why can’t she bring me fancy rings and golden chains?

Or bring someone to clean my house and scrub away stains?

I would have preferred a monthly plate of fried plantains.

Or better still, a massage from that ex-One Direction guy named Zayn.

But I endure her visits through gritted teeth and silent refrains.



When it is over, I feel my peace of mind and my sanity regained.



Written by ©Ivie M. Eke 2017.

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