by (me) Taylor Lackford
my hair is a mess, knotted and tangled.
all of this stress makes it rotted and mangled.
weaved in anxiety, malice and hate,
what a pity to see that beauty deflate.
from a tug to a jostle, this beast is colossal.
and I played along, the willing apostle.
now look at this knot consuming the mirror,
push you out of my face so that I can see clearer.
to no avail, you stuck and you clung,
to the side of my head, and it's there that you hung.
cursing doesn't work for something with no ears,
and yet you've clouded mine over the years.
pick up the scissors and say my goodbyes,
finally free, I can see with my own eyes.
gone are you knot, down the sink you fall,
out of my life with your tangles and all.
my hair will regrow, with new knots on the way,
but never will I let them curl up and stay.
keep a comb in my pocket for those pesky little strays,
maybe even hairspray for those crazy fly aways!