the hair

the desire to feel different was the motive.

a buzzcut blends in with the crowd that surrounds you,

and soon you find yourself homogenized along them

initially, I was ecstatic feeling unique a persona and face I finally built for myself

but then after you unlock who you were meant to be,

you realize it’s okay to be similar to a neighboring face.

each memory came along with the fiber

a boy who discovered his intimacy, who lost his innocence,

and who dipped further into the art. overall, a boy who became unrecognizable.

as the strand was dyed, so was apart of the soul

a mark of the new person I’ve become, now then the midpoint of a hill climbed.

as time served and highlighted good, accompanied along was the evil.

fear crept back, allowing the gateway towards insecurity, instability and bitterness

that’s when the growth of each day represented the darkness instead.

the hairties would be used more often, two pillars of my own mental fortitude

the bigger the bun was, the more apparent of my unwillingness to grow

thus, I let the evilness consume the good.

I see someone who’s tired whenever I look in the mirror.

his eye bags compliment sorrow, scars represent shame. every time, he isn’t smiling.

I don’t want to stare at that person anymore.

I was scared. I’ve kept it for so long in fear of change.

fearful that after its cut, I somehow lose apart of myself.

instead of ridding the evil, I cut what created the good.

but ultimately, I decide who to be and steer my new direction of the clean slate

yet still remembering both the ecstasy and suffering I endured in the past,

morals I will still carry into the next life.

say goodbye to the buns and the whiskers that accompanied me for two suns,

the hairstyles of every chapter and page turn,

new virtues and curses that accompanied along with it,

an experience of a lifetime suppressed in a ninth of my duration

thank you for teaching me who I needed to be.

I hope I’ll feel lighter in my head and stare at a new person in the mirror

I won’t have to see the strands fall every time I take a shower,

the fear and stress of the tangles created,

and finally, sleep in peace, keeping down for the first time.

I decided I would only finally rid it if I found myself worthy

Someone who flew, then fell, and then would only rebirth themselves if they flew

The high note I would end on would be the perfect chapter

But the necessity to fly again is to reinvent myself

And I understand now that the book still continues, with or without the length.

what I have now depicts who I have wanted to portray for the past few months.

enigmatic and mysterious, masked by the void he portrays

his lips sealed, his expressions undefinable compared to before