[I suggest boys under 15 do not read this]

The toilet was in the bathroom,
And there was never a great lock.
I walked in to do my teeth one day,
My sister shouted, "Stop!"

Too late, of course,
For what I saw,
Was a lot of blood
On the floor.
I cried and screamed for help.

"Malia's bleeding!
Mum! Dad! Come here quick!
There's too much blood,
I'm going to be sick!"

She shooed me out,
My parents rushed in,
My dad turned away,
My mum had a grin.

They both kind of looked at me,
Malia too,
As if something had happened,
That all but me knew.

Malia was blushing,
My dad took my hand,
Said, "Son this is normal,
For the women of this land."

"Normal? She's bleeding!
She must be in pain!"
I cried and I cried,
Not knowing what else to say.

"You don't need to worry,
Just come with me,
She will be fine,
Just wait and see."

I nodded and sniffled,
I walked out the room,
Holding the hand of my father,
Who would tell me the news.

Malia would bleed each month,
For many years to come.
And even though it looks bad,
It's actually painless for some.

Now I know what I didn't know then,
And frankly I am glad,
That I'm not a girl because,
It sounds awfully bad.

I was too young to know,
Now I'm too old to care,
When every month of each year,
There's blood going spare.