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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