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21 August 2003 @ 03:58 pm

I don't believe in miracles
  I make it plain and true
I don't believe in miracles
And I don't believe in you.

I do not have a body
  Full of blood and gore
I am do not seep in red
And I am not all over sore

I have not the moon as mistress
   I call her not my friend
But once a month at her whim
I to her will must bend

I want to be full of anger
   But instead am full of tears
My body takes not it lead from me
And does everything I fear

I am full of miracle, painful
  Sad and true
My body knots all the ways
And my denials I learn to rue.

I hold this pose then that
  Till I writhe with mortal pain
Just a four days more I say
Of living with my bane.

This month likes others is 
   Much the same
I'd call it off, hide it out, though
Would rather rescind my claim.

Yet I am woman, babe and chic
   Lively, strong, and tough
To live as such with these charms
I can take the rough stuff.

(it is bad, but I needed to get something out...)
Feeling like: pain
Listening to: tea