An ode to my period blood
doesn't sit well with your matcha tea,
I am rambling on about the men who broke my heart,
Bit into my coping mechanisms one hickey at a time
and you think , Get over it already.
I tell you how sweaty hands and cold feet give away mental illness one pounding heart beat at a time and you get the reference
But you say social media is no place to talk about anxiety,
You, would rather put me on a couch
Write something happy you say,
Or write something heavier, write about war and rape,
Write about eating disorders and body image
You say there's nothing new about love, write about self love instead
Well I wrote this angry poem
And you think, oh you thought this was for you Cinderella?
I don't make paper shoes,
I don't write to validate or challenge your views
Sometimes I write of things you don't even believe in and I am not sure of like unicorns, phoenixes and God
It's a different kind of magic, the surest kind kind of freedom
so what if my words are paper cuts?
My metaphors Latin?
Stop taking scissors to my words
My art can't breathe under the rocks of your expectations.