thick loose curls fall to the mat on the floor i haven't had a real haircut in three years i would always get anxious and cut hair off myself because something happened or i would get worried about something and feel the need to cut my hair and I could never bring myself to get it cut by a professional it was so uneven so even though i only got 7 inches cut off today i feel like i'm starting to know myself again
7 inches might seem like a lot but my hair was at least 2 feet long so 7 inches wasn't a lot considering how uneven it was at the ends and how unevenly layered it was so anywayyyy
i know that getting a haircut may not seem like that big of a deal but like it really was and i'm really proud of myself because i've finally done something that i've been scared of doing because of what my hair looked like. I could never wear it without it being in a ponytail because of how uneven it was and the person who cut my hair didn't say anything about it, she just cut it off it feels like a weight lifted of my shoulders because i can wear my hair loose again i'm like really proud of myself (this was long sorry it needed an explanation)
I was always told my hair texture was bad. So here comes the white cream. The white cream is chemical hell. I can smell it as I write this. As I got older I realized the white cream took out more than my curls and coils that the Man upstairs scribbled for me. It took away my temple hairs. It took my chances of having hair past my shoulders. But the white cream never took my curiosity. My never ending curiosity of what I would look like if the white cream never took my real hair from me. My real hair, which was, is, and never will be “bad.”
The devil has an angelic grin As he holds your hand in secret And whispers sweet little nothings in your ear. The devil has perfect skin, striking eyes, And a jaw that could have cut Your wrists better than you will ever have. The devil will write you poems And speak to you in rhymes, Fleeting little words, Just to keep you from breaking apart So he can keep playing With your already aching heart. The devil will come When you are at your lowest. He will come with an outsteretched hand Promising you heaven on earth But, he will let go of you right before you reach the top.
So you pull yourself up like what humans do in the face of adversity, And when you are on your own way to heaven, Only then shall you meet your angel
Your angel will not have wings To whisk you off your feet And bring you to dazzling sights, But he will have a smile Brighter And more beautiful Than any scenery. Your angel will not look how you imagined him to be all chiseled up and perfect like a Greek statue But you will not be able to look away From that crooked smile Nor tear your hands away From those coarsely cut curls. Your heart will be full of his love And you will feel safe Perhaps Even feel heaven on earth