Hate my Hair
My mother cut my hair yesterday
Against my will
I watched as these pieces of me
Fell to the floor at the hand of a blade - deja vu
It was the one piece of me
That was free from insecurity
Now it is short and dark
Like my mind.
I talked to my friend this morning
But the words felt forced and wrong
I watched as our relationship
Began to unfurl - I don't think I can talk to her again
But I've known this was coming
Because we've been drifting apart
For a while.
I'm gazing out the window now
Begging, pleading, crying, yelling.
Watching as my family is torn apart
Piece by piece, we
Are cut off, drifting away.
How can a broken family compare to a haircut
Or losing a friend?