three poems describing the daily grind

inaction.

it flows through my veins

my heart dutifully pumps it

spreading it from my brain

to my still fingertips

asthma.

my chest aches with every inhale

the rise and fall of my chest

is an endless battle with no winner

because the battle is simply me vs. my body

and if my body no longer wants to breathe

then who am i to fight against it?

menstruation.

soiled and stained

it leaves me bloodier than before

it leaves me moodier than before

my back aches, my pelvis aches

my head aches, my breasts ache

my heart aches

when will this torment be over?