Life can be so unfair and we can be so pathetic

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I’m sick to my stomach
And I’m almost starting to complain about the unfair, one-sided nature of life
I’m knee deep in strips again
Testing
And wiping
And pissing on yet another miserable strip of plastic and paper.
And I already know the answer,
In my mind I think you’re the problem!
Due to your endless useless, youthful frolics and constant emissions
My dream of becoming a mother becomes more and more distant.
I could be wrong though
What if it’s me?
What if the universe didn’t want me to conceive?
What if I’m not strong enough
And this constant blame game is getting us nowhere.
Every cycle is just another disappointment, another reminder of failure
And you haven’t been speaking
But your body language has spoken volumes.
You’re getting tired,
Tired of taking the blame,
Tired of making first and last moves
tired of the routine and delays
Of checking temperatures and fertility charts
To simply make love to your wife.
I know…
I’m tired to.

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