She sat silently in the classroom,
And dreamed of days to come.
Then smelt a scent other than her perfume,
Protruding from her bum.
"But is this substance from my rear?"
She asked a girl beside her.
"No, my friend, you need not fear,
It's origin is your vagina."
Violent red seeping onto her dress,
Then through that and onto her chair.
A bloody scene, a frightful mess,
All her classmates could do was stare.
"Eww, what’s that?" said stupid Michael,
Ms. Apple replying, "this my pupils, is the monthly cycle."