:hairbrush:

Alopecia I'm lying across my purple bed, Staring at my vanity. I just wish I was dead. I'm losing my sanity. I can't stand taking these meds. Their killing me, you see? I'm a mess. I'm not lying, I'm as truthful as can be. I used to be pretty. Now I'm ugly. I miss my long beautiful locks, Now they've all fallen off. I sit up on my purple bed, Facing the vanity. My useless hairbrush is there, And I'm screaming profanities! What is it doing there? I can't brush what isn't there! Ever since I was diagnosed, I've been feeling sick in the head. My parents gave me these meds. They'll make you feel better they said. Now I'm drugged, And I feel unplugged What is the point of the hairbrush, When there's nothing to brush? My sister has stopped talking to me, Pretending things are the way it's Supposed to be. I miss my former beauty. I want my hair and instead all is see is, Bald, ugly me. Instead I just sleep. In my eyes I see, My self-pity hole, That I've dug so deep. In that dark, dark hole, Is that useless hairbrush, And ugly me.