My parents taught me not to care
too much
what I looked like.
I didn't have to be skinny, or wear make-up, or dress a certain way
all good lessons, I agree.
But they failed to teach me
about the confidence that clothing can inspire
about how beautiful it can be to walk around looking like you feel.
"It's just hair"sounds like great advice
So I keep my hair long (it's just hair).
Push it up in a hat when I don't wanna deal (it's just hair).
I grow to hate it, pretend I don't.
after all,
it's just hair.
I walk into drama class one morning in
bright
pink
leggings.
The only comfortable thing I could find to exercise in.
But I'm not comfortable
My hair
unkempt
my face
unmakuped
it's college and no one is judging me
except myself. And I hate it.
I want to
dis-
-a-
-pear
I walk away feeling
not enough.
"F" grade on femininity.
I catch on pretty quick
that it isn't
"just hair"
Next time we go for haircuts
they ask me
"just a trim?"
and I say "No,
I want it short."
"How short?"
"Real short"
The next time I walk into class
I walk with my head held high
"A" grade for being me.
Because it's just hair to you
but it's breathing to me.
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The Works of An Average Sad Queer Girl: Poetry Collection
PoetryA collection of poems, mostly sad, some inspiring, and some nonsense FOR YOU. Girls love girls. <3