Our pyjamas have witnessed the wars,

No swords could have.

Unsung triumphs of pain and love,

Flush behind our cotton of dignity.

Years ago it was tremendous,

Those adolescent cramps killed.

Now it's the part of our divine power

To bring lives and restrain pain.

Even the gods have forbidden us,

Maybe the godesses understand,

We're not impure, not contaminated,

We are the warriors of light

And we bleed a beautiful red.

© Aarya kareepadath