Stupid Red Bird

This rather regrettable poem marks my return to WDC. About this poem? I hate PMS.

It’s coming. The cramps
That nothing can persuade,
Not Tylenol or naps.

I am an alien in myself,
A bird carrying eggs
And roosting in itself.

But it's a river in me,
It's the red of parrot wings shattered against the Amazon
Just a stupid red bird.

It can't just hit me,
She will not strike me,
She'd rather make me wear myself like a hated sweater.

I should never have been born this way,
I was never meant to bleed like this,
This damn thing never fights fair.