burden me like atlas
give me a boulder which
takes me to the ground every
time i wish to smack my feet
upon the ground, because
who wants the boy with
long hair to walk with his
head up and his chin high?
it's full, a brown mass
that curls and twists and
entangles a mind in
compromising styles
i won't win in a fight
with my hair in my face
it shrouds me from conflict
and fights, because who wants
the drama that comes 
with extended human interaction?
who knows, i'll be glad
to at least be on someone's mind