This goes to my curly haired girls. Or guys.
Written August 26th 2015
I was born with curly hair,
It never settled here or there.
The times I tried to tie it up,
It bounded free like a lively pup.
The years I straightened it,
I was a clouds bullseye.
The rain does not care for lies,
It'll wash them away right before your eyes.
The truth us, my hair is me,
A wild mess of love and glee.
We do not like to be controlled,
And aren't great at being told what to do.
We do not read the warning signs,
And sometimes wander out of line.
The days I let my hair go free,
Were the days I felt the most like me.
A/N: Not my usual poem. But I had a fight with my hair today, so why not write about it.
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All The Things I'll Never Say (#MYYOUTH)
AcakA young girl loved sad poems so much, she eventually became one. +Weekly updates+
