HMH

Women are born with pain built in.

It's our physical destiny.

Period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know.

We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives.

Men don't.

They have to seek it out.

They invent all these gods and demons and things just so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we also do very well on our own.

And then they create wars, so they can feel things and touch each other, and when there aren't any wars they can play rugby.

And we have it all going on in here, inside.

We have pain on a cycle for years and years and years and then, just when you feel you are making peace with it all, what happens? The menopause comes.

The fucking menopause comes and it is the most most wonderful fucking thing in the world! And, yes, your entire pelvic floor crumbles and you get fucking hot and no-one cares, but then you're free.

No longer a slave, no longer a machine, with parts.

You're just a person.

The angels all have vanished.

The stars above all hide.

And the verity of centuries

of crosses and Christmas trees,

I realize long ago died.

But still this night is different.

It shimmers in a most unusual way,

as if something more than catalogs,

ribbons, cards, or carolers begins to softly say:

Sell your soul to no one.

Give all your hopes away for free.

And don't look back on all the things you never had,

tonight you have all you need.

You say your way's forgotten,

and each day lived is a grave.

And though you found no Bethlehem,

just scattered Myrrh and Frankincense,

something still was saved.

Sell your soul to no one.

Give all your hopes away for free.

And don't look back on all the things you never had,