A tiny pill, less than fingernail-size
Washed down with water each day.
You’d think nothing of it.
It’s just like clockwork.
It does its job.
You marvel at science
And you marvel at being a woman
Just how does your body do it?
You wonder each day.
Now there is less blood
But more bleeding
Less pain
But more suffering
As the months pass you start to realise something.
You’d rather tear out your own hair
Than tear out your own ******
You’d rather be drenched with blood
Than drenched with sadness and anger
Once a month you wish you were dead.
The pill laughs.
Once a month you cry yourself to sleep
Just because somebody looked at you funny.
This tiny tiny thing
Smaller than your fingernail
May be making it easier to be a woman
But it’s making it harder to be you.
I recently discovered that my contraceptive pill had messed with my hormones to the point where I had completely changed as a person. I was very anxious and low, and all because of a tiny pill that I'd put a lot of my faith in. This is my disjointed attempt at conveying the pain I endured.
