My Hair Tries To Define Me

My hair tries to define me I laugh in her straggly non- curls Hoping to shame me, she taunts me About being messy and unkempt Together we could be a social disgrace except only she cares, wanting a brushing, regular combs run through her, etcetera. She is much more prissy than I am. Unbothered by her begging and pleading, I march on kicking the possibility of a well coiffured head out of my way, watching her hopes and dreams land in mire and muck. She glares at me from a mud puddle with ticks and lice hopping onto her. I truly do not care. Her cowlick promenades around the bugs’ barn dance. This does not concern me. I will never define myself by my hair. My hair tries to define me