| sitting, thinking Idly running my hands through my hair the color from my half breed Cherokee grandmother that i use to dye away when i was 10 the kink and texture from my African roots Almost the same thickness as my mother's those qualities that led me to snarls and tears as a child Tossing aside the strands that fall out Reminds me of a time when i had diseased bald spots Twisting it into shirly temple ringlets That were admired as a child Debating whether or not to shave my head again in that fashion that confused people into thinking that i was a boi even confused me into thinking... And as time slips by, i need to leave Then wrapping the strands in a misshapen dew drop A past highschool trend A thought, A truth, cognitively flashes in my mind My hair is my heritage |
| My Hair |