Poem to get perimenopause off my chest

The Perimenotaur 

A haunting grin buried deep, under folds of youth

While happy,active, skipping girls go blinded by the truth

They swing and play, then date, and work, and see their future bright

As rivers red sponge paint their threads and keep them in delight

The second hand once turning smooth starts to tweak and jerk

Fraying floral ropes within, unbinding what has lurked

With heavy feet a wobbling scale sends danger soaring high

While swarms of good moods cry in pain now dying off inside

A flaming tongue ignites the stove, a womb of steamy heat

Forcing waves of liquid salts to cool the mighty beast

But pitchfork stabs cannot be tamed, stuck at every joint

And sanity left vulnerable cannot find its point 

Kites of doom sway back and forth as darkness spreads its wings

But logic says, one drop of hope is waiting still to sing

This hope is stronger than the black to nourish hidden seeds

Now sprouting up the purest form of femininity

It’s rosy glow starting to grow, the Minotaur he gasps

Then shrivels into nothingness, his time has finally passed

Though slightly scarred and somewhat changed, womanhood remains

More determined than before to happily remain. 

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