In more naïve times
When
I was young
I
was raised to think that
“What
little girls were made of”
Was
Sugar and spice
And
all things nice
What
an eye opener
When
finally, you grow up
And
you move in with one
Tampons,
pantie liners
Feminine
freshness
Lack
of bladder control
Pre-Menstrual
tension
Mood
swings and flushes
These
were secrets
Best
kept that way
We’re
constantly bombarded
With
information we don’t want
Or
need, in TV commercials
And
in newspaper full page ads
Never
inflicted on our dads
In
times of more awareness
Now
I am older
I
now no better
“What
little girls are made of”
Feminine
itching
And
moaning and bitching
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