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I Didn't Know That Boy's BledIt's incredibly natural (and painful),
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for a girl past thirteen to have her cycle.
It separates us from the boys, and it makes us all girls,
makes us females, different from the males of the world.
Boys don’t bleed, be they gay, straight, or bi,
trans, or whatever. That’s a girl’s given right.
So why on earth is their blood in his seat?
Dried remnants of crimson in his sheets?
I’m just a maid working for some snack money,
so I don’t know much of what doesn't concern me.
Though I follow with my eyes, his mother who stalks,
to his room at night without sparing an evening talk.
With blankets she leaves as quietly as she came,
though I swear I see a hint of auburn on her hands.
Sometimes I swear she brings her rambunctious friends.
Untrustworthy men, and even vile women.
I’m just a maid, so I’ll just keep my peace.
I’m just a maid, I’ll clean his blood from the sheets.
I think he’s become a corpse as of recent,