200
The blood soils the white cotton panties as the blood sacherates through like starch on a corn leaf.
I felt the sharp satchel slice my skin
My cracked hips painfully broken the silent screams as tears of hate pierced my heart once’s removed from rebirth. Blood minus water left for empty and cold. I lived the lies of regret from loss. I fought back tears of hurt and pain. I needed to survive. I took the risk of losing by remaining strong in doubt, fearless of being ashamed and beautiful within. Take an ounce of blood to multiples of the exponent infinity minus water and hold it with a loin cloth. It’s needed when you are a woman.
â—¦
