The blood drips down my thighs in fighting harmonies.

Disagreeing on the weight in which to debilitate me, its desire to hurt me.

My body clenches, a shooting pain transforms me.

Demanding to immobilize me.

I ask my body to love me, to care for me, to cherish me, instead She continues to suffocate me.

She alienates me.

Mother imagines the pain away.

Telling me and Her that my blood and pain is proof of my virtue.

Mother smiles at Her, admiring her breasts so full and sweet and those soft hips that dip down beneath the sea. 

Mother sees the illustration of an ethereal being.

Mother gives thanks that I am no longer sharp-edged with jagged lanky bones, waiting to puncture.

But instead of giving gratitude, as mother pleaded of me, I asked : “why God did this to me.”

It is you who made my backache from the new straps and clasp that tightened the fats of my skin so unnaturally. 

Forcing me to slow down, due to the weight of my bosom sinking me to the ground.

I now see that God is vexing me. 

You continue to remind me of my feminine duty that is waiting for me,

By demanding a repeat of this everlasting pain. 

Until She is stretched out thin, left with scars from the kicks and beatings. 

Until She has withstood all of her contractions, left bleeding, and depleted. 

Left solely with the brand of child-bearer.

Decades pass, womanly duties are no more. 

Only mental.

For I become invisible,

left with the melodies of my waning memories.