When I wake up early,
And something in my stomach is twirling,
Everything goes into a flurry,
When it stains…

Every November, December,
When I am alone in a cold chamber,
I cannot speak and I stammer,
That it stains…

When it’s January, when it’s February,
With everyone having tangy curries,
Except for me, all is merry,
Because it stains…

It is in March and April,
When everyone wears frills,
But I can’t and it kills,
Because of these stains…


Now it is May, June,
Everyone has ice-cream scoops,
I ‘m stopped from devouring those,
As it stains…

Joyous July and August,
When all is at its peak of lust,
Beautiful rains kiss the earth’s crust,
While I’m forced to stay in as it stains…

Auspicious September, October,
Diwali and Durga Puja occurs,
While I’m denied my prayers and offers,
Because it stains…

It stains, it pains
But it’s mine, so don’t try to tame
Me, I was happy when it came,
But I’m mature and not the same…

Yet it is sacred if it stains,
There is life where there is pain,
So be confident to claim,
That it stains, that it stains…

Poet : Umang Saigal

Umang is pursuing her engineering in Electronics and Communication, She is a speaker at her college and a proponent of women empowerment. She wants to establish her carrier in promoting women rights and various social works.
Editor: Divya Rosaline

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