A million spiders, slither out thence
Whence, a tree uprooted yesterday
What am I, at my blood’s expense?
A sublime pain, in a soul blasé!

The woman, I farm, with my blood
For the sin, I rear of womanhood
That girl, I nipped, in the bud
Still cries in me, as an aching dream would!

As the night dissolves, in the blush of gore
A pain deepens, in my heart and soul
How riotous, are the rites galore
For a womanhood, to pay its toll!

Like the lasting mystique, of blood-moon
And the sun that bleeds, all thru twilight
Behold me, and my enigma strewn
In The Pain Of A Menstrual Night!

© 2017 Vikas Chandra