On PMS
I stole my mother's white dress
Without her knowing
oops!
Her dress of youth
I stand in the mirror
This is summer
“And yet”-
That’s all he said,
attacked by panic
In my bed
Under my cover
Me, in a dress from my mother
A kiss is a gun
Spit is a bullet
Tyrannical saliva targets
everyone
I’m in the sun
In the mirror
I’m dreaming on a bus
In the mirror
But I only want him.
When will my soldier return?
All these rules cause me to unhinge
No wonder we got sick:
(I want him, I shouldn’t
He does, he doesn’t
Now he can’t, so I do,
but he doesn’t)
Such is love.
I’d die for a chance to study medicine,
die to save lives,
Why do old lives demand our silence?
This interests me more than science.
I could write reams of poems
But I think myself untalented
A humanity graduate
There's thousands of those
I need a guitar and a scream
After that, I'll be every father's dream
But I've turned blue-
An egg yolk changing hue,
boiled too long, exploded
My thoughts are Tik Tok videos
Wanting fame and glory
Even if it exists only
in the palm of our hands
I don't know how my body works, I’m out of sync.
But it knows me all too well.
Take it on a run, try to quell
A mind running thick-
Thicker than my blood. “Do you want to know the secret
Of how to live forever?”,
Smug, smirking mother.
How dare she be so vain
But I stole her dress.
How did she know
I’d go to such pains?
I go mad once a month
No more no less
This is a poetry dress
I’ll take it off now, it's only...
Well, it's only PMS.