No depth is like the deepness of your eyes
No warmth is like the comfort of your smile
Yet sometimes love turns out to be unwise.
And joy can change to feelings dark and vile

Yet like blue glass your eyes compel my gaze.
Your lips invite me to  conjoin with mine.
Have I learned  so little wisdom in my days?
Am I a fool to pass this warning sign?

Yet hope is ever rising in the heart.
Despair is not to be embraced too soon;
and if God wills that our two ways must part
I'll face the error and receive my doom.

For humans must  all give and take of love.
So  tender like the  flutterings of a dove

We bleed  and suffer 40 years

And for that we pay tax.

Tampons  packaged can be ours

If we pay our whack.

VAT imposed  by men

Adds greatly to the cost.

I thought about it and I ken

The  struggle is not lost.

Let us bleed in public  life

Let blood run down our clothes.

Let us show that  not in strife

Blood’s shed without blows.

Men cause other men  to bleed

And   hope that they will die.

Women nurture,grow and feed.

And down with men we lie.

And  for millenia we’ve been shamedn

And hid our bleeding wombs.

Unclean despite expensive towels

We feel we are entombed.

The womb cries out in grief and sorrow

At this cruel world.

We will not see a tomorrow,

Nor foetuses uncurl.

So let us make our blood our emblem

See it ,let it flow.

Down the path we are all stumbling.

Don’t hide it,let it show.

Hours of scrubbing,soaking washing

For menstrual blood   we hide.

Yet  men go  striking,fighting  bashing

Shed blood as they die.

The blood of soldiers and civilians

Is pictured on the News.

And politicians in pavilions

Will not share our views.

Blood of war is glorified

Their bandages are free.

Blood of women horrifies.

We  must pay VAT .

Let’s walk the streets with  womb blood flowing

Dripping on the paths.

For all the interest men are showing

We must show our  wrath.

Every month in fertile years

Our womb prepares a nest.

To welcome with our love and tears

An embryo to rest.

For we’re told too many children

Will destroy the world.

Yet even as we  go on  building

Men their bullets hurl.

Which  of us is more destructive?

Which of us is sane?

Which can better be constructive?

How  does  love remain?

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Charisma should not sway us too much.

But we are over-impressed by its touch.

We ignore the unassuming

Charm is confusing.

We must not consent to its clutch.

And people of this type have power.

As compliments  cover us in a shower.

Be your own judge of self;

Thus keep your own mental health.

For each of us is like a  sweet flower.