painting purple the periodical plasma of pain (& patience that makes one pale

painting purple the periodical plasma of pain (& patience that makes one pale )

trenched underneath screaming through my bedsheet

wailing through my jawline and cursing my metaphorical mother earth 

who made me girl!

sucking pain killers that would kill my cry one day,

don't kill my cry but kill my consciousness everyday 

weaving in the paraboles of distracting minds,

I vacillate my feet to rest my patience of pain 

from hot summers till the winder cold,

I freak out when this date comes to devastate me once in every month

but 13 times in an year 

to throb my throat and rack my stomach

I am not gonna ask to God, 

that why you made me a girl

or why boys don't go through all this

I would ask one question

have you felt the hurt before deciding that we  all would be punished like this all life?

does pregnancy demand this plethora to become the epitome of divine!

if yes ,then why are we considered impure during these days!

and if we get pregnant before marriage and didn't feel the prickle for a month 

why are we more unholy for say?

like it is stated, it is the birth right of a woman to remain immoral 

cause her morality is not even in getting periods! and not even in getting pregnant , anyway.

"Like it is her birthright to be betrayed!"

And still embrace the pain 

Cause women are considered  most vulnerable outside her bed room,

Dignified as the most vulnerable sections to be addressed,

But inside the room she is not even asked for consent 

As when a married women without her want, gets pregnant, she is virtuous,

But when this happens without marriage , she is debased to death 

By saying this we resort rape after marriage,

But resent livin's as two happy adults without signing a paper bring more defamation,

Than a woman who was not even asked,

But was only subjugated enough to collapse and surrender 

So we glorify pregnancy after marriage,

But before marriage, periods are pristine.

Acknowledging such a  culture which is dual to doubt a lady every once in a while,

Is far more perishable than her identity trials 

 then leave all the questions behind,

As the  answer lies in her stillness, silence  and simultaneous smiles ! 

Leeza Sharma