You'll Learn Fast

As a woman you’ll learn fast

You’ll learn that no amount of crying will work

No amount of visits will convince them 

You’ll learn that they don’t know

They’re just too scared to say it

When you visit for the first time

You’ll complain about pain

“Do you take Advil?” one asks

“Do you drink water” Another one asks

“Are you pregnant?” Is what they’ll all ask

The questions remain the same

You’ll learn the order of what they ask

You’ll learn not to expect much

“This is normal” Is what you’ll hear

“You’re just young” Is something they all say

“Welcome to being a woman” They’ll all say

You’ll learn to accept these answers

You’ll learn to give up trying 

Waking up in pain

You’ll rush to the hospital 

“Something’s wrong” 

You’ll cry and cry

Begging them to listen

You’ll learn they won’t

You’ll learn they don’t care

Into the room you go

“Do you take Advil?” one asks

“Do you drink water?” Another one asks

“Are you pregnant?” Is what they’ll all ask

You’ll cry into the pillow 

You’ll beg for pills

You’ll beg for tests 

They won’t listen 

Make them test you

Make them listen

Make them do something

Check your vitals

Check your sheets

They’ll tell you it’s normal

“Any chance you’re pregnant?” The fourth doctor asks 

That’ll break the last bit of sanity you have 

The last bit of hope that they’ll help

The last bit of will

When you’re weak and can’t move 

When you’re broken and can’t cry

That’s when they’ll test

And tell you 

“It’s too late, you’re going to die” 

As a woman you’ll learn fast 

You’ll learn that no amount of crying will work

No amount of visits will convince them 

You’ll learn that they don’t know

They’re just too scared to say it