She woke up with pain,

In every inch of her body.

She found her raiments stained

By the blood,

That flowed through her innocent heart.

She was daunted by the discovery,

That she could bleed;

Even without an injury.

That she could bleed;

Without having to sink even an inch of a sword.

She was daunted,

That she was destined to fight this war.

A war, that will give her needless pain and scarless wounds.

These wounds will still bleed;

And she can never explain her stained seat.

Her ivory silk gown became untouchable,

In a span of every other month.

She affeared that her scarlet flow

Will defile the beauty of the sinless ivory clothe.

Because,

She was never taught that

Bleeding was a part of her growth.