When she bleeds; A poem dedicated to all the females out there that goes through menustral pains

She ponders on what mother nature has bestowed on her.
Is it a gift or a curse she reasons.
Terrified of the crimson red stains on her wobbly thoughts.
With her pounding head,
The pain in her abdomen,
and the silent trickle of a viscous red fluid between her legs.
It must be a curse she tries to concludes
Why do I not have a say in how my body works she asks.
The answer stares at her silently

But,
Without the excruciating abdominal pains,
The pounding head and the silent trickle like a leaking tap between her legs
She has no identity as a woman.
And cannot fathom the joy of motherhood.
The gift of Nature is illusory she concludes.
Because without this procreation becomes non existent
How complicated mother nature is.
Gloom and joy entwined like a sad love story.