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
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