The first time I can remember being happy with my hair,
Was sitting in the salon chair,
Scissors going snip snip snip,
Hair falling to the floor with every clip.

And with each passing moment the hair began to disappear,
And my scalp to the sunlight grow near.

See for quite some time,
In fact all of the life of mine,
I can remember looking in the mirror and thinking,
"Damn, it's not good enough" and blinking
Away tears that threatened and burned,
While the world still turned.

When I was three I can remember my mother brushing my hair,
If she dared,
Because every time the bristles touched my skin,
I would scream in pain, and writhe and spin.

And so eventually she gave in,
No more brushing, no more hairpins.

And then the taunting began,
"You have rats nests in your hair and you're going to look like a madman."
"Your hair is so frizzy because you yank and pull,
Maybe try being gentle and it'll be beautiful and full."

No matter what I did,
No matter how with each try I outdid,
It was never good enough for them,
I was never quite enough of a perfect femme.

And so with time,
Their negative voices turned into my own thought line.

You look stupid,
Your hair looks dumb and ruined,
And it's all your fault,
And this is the result
The voices in my head cried,
While I watched, cried, and sighed.

And eventually there came a day,
Where I said no more with a large bray,
And so there I ended up in the salon chair,
The first time I can remember being happy with my hair,
Scissors going snip snip snip,
Hair falling to the floor with every clip.

Until it was gone.