: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.
Copyright © Madelyn Nichols | Year Posted 2017
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