I crave cabin biscuits at 12 am, a new day so I wore my fallen bonnet and head to the toilet.
Sitting to eat, while I pushed my tampon deeper,
heavy blood came down as I drank water from a red cup.
A reminder that I’m feminine in a harsh tone but
yet so gentle.
The vigilante came at 12 am, my blood swayed and hit- sneezing more as blood came out- I hear myself say to myself “you are doomed- you are a woman”
Dogs will bark and I will eat from a yellow bag
Consistency is the key to everything, even glowing skin.
I bath my hair with water to retain moisture- natural hair is a struggle like everything else- the Afro hair is worst- like a curse.
Men make you pissed every day, but you have to be there for the next girl who can’t process anything
Wisdom is patience, waiting too long is stupidity.
A man wears a pad to mimic a woman’s struggles on Twitter, he does not know the pain of the guitar and the guitar player.
Biscuits taste better when it’s mixed with tears and social media
A lady cries of her mother, family and business
The guitarist knows the pain after every play
Let me live through this day she prayed
I’m exhausted, she said.
Pain is pain and you better get used to it
The guitarist checks his hands after each play
His audience are entertained so he doesn’t care
About pain or bruises- Family or losses
For the joy of the play is better than anything.
Posted from my blog with SteemPress : https://obidiojochide.com/12-am-and-biscuits/
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