The rose between her legs, monthly blooms.
The nectar flows, but the hummingbirds leave(s), her to shed and mourn, alone.
And her mother scolds. Scolding her for worshiping the God, during demon’s period and for mourning out loud, when her brother is around, and for bleeding herself out, in front of her father by fault!
“Don’t you have a shame?” Her mother frowned!