Leave your hair the way God made it.
Keep it natural. Why try to
Straighten, curl, dye, tint or fade it
As if your Lord were one to lie to—
While you copy that silly look
From someone else's beauty book.

If your tresses, dark by nature
You decide to bleach to gold,
Oh dear vain and fickle creature,
You've believed the lies you're sold.
Low on info, you lost the plot
By not esteeming what you've got.

Cut it any way you please to.
Braid it, if you're so inclined;
But do refrain from paying fees to
Color-tinters fit to blind:
Day-glo green, fake blonde, bright blues
Are strange and nauseating hues.