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Laura Mar 31
I rub my hands
Along my scalp
I watch the hair
Fall in the sink
Bleach blonde hair
With mousey brown roots
Locks upon locks
Falling to the sink
I tell myself I'm brave
I can do this
My hair will grow back
Yet I still cry
As I watch all the hair
That he touched
Fall to the sink
The hair that he stroked
The hair that he pulled
The hair that he brushed
out of my eyes
I watch him leave my head
Along with the last thing he touched
My hair
Aeryn Mar 12
I want to cut my hair
I don't want to cut my hair

It weighs me down
drags me along the
trenches of gender stereotypes

People look at me,
think,
"That's a girl."
And I'll turn the color
of diluted self-harm blood; pink.
Maybe I'll give
Being androgynous
a whirl.

It gets all knotty
I keep it in a dull, bland ponytail
I don't think it deserves more
Nor I

But if I cut it,
I'll still be in the stereotype

Here,
Another Queer!
Look there,
At their hair!
Probably ***,
By the way!

And what if I look stupid besides?
I have no freaking idea whether to cut it or not.
Addi Anderson Dec 2018
I pick up
the sharp blades,
and feel the weight
of a thousand things
fall of my shoulders.

I am cutting off
every little tie
that is left between us.
Each inch is
a memory.

You always did like my hair long.
This is kind of random, sorry guys.
There is a barber shop built on the ashes of Babylon,
where men lose their ******* with shame that skip to the fourth kid,

There once was place where Samson's hairstyle was a treasure map.
A place where lost man travel
Where David found no stone
where Noah built an Ark but storm never came.

When we pass through that place even the stars we use for direction disappear.
Iz Oct 2018
The chatter in the room is almost mundane
The woman behind me has a dog she’s keeping outside who the neighbors aren’t too fond of because he’s a bit loud at night
I got to my hair appointment almost 15 minuets late as I slipped through the door of the I suppose modern styled ‘Yellow Strawberry’ my mother was on the phone
She wears this head set that wraps around your neck and never realizes she yells when she is talking to people and it makes me cripplingly anxious
The mirrors are tall and filled with unimpressed faces glaring at us as my marvelous royal purple polyester velvet skirt glistens in the sunlight peeking in from the dropped shades
I mutter out the time of my appointment apologize that we are late and give them my name
I know it is spelt wrong in the computer, and the odds of one of the people in here having a dog named bella are unbelievable high
As I’m escorted back to my hair dressers station I remember, I need to repaint my chipped glittery red nail polish before I pick all of it off and feel disgusting
But this particular nail polish is extremely difficult to get off and I regret every-time I paint my nails with it
But it looks so ******* beautiful in the sunlight and my lover adores the color against my almost porcelain  like skin so I indulge from now and again
I am here to hopefully cut about three inches off of my hair, it’s getting too long it sits painfully at about an inch or two below my shoulders
Four months ago I cut off about 10 inches and I felt about 50 pounds of anxiety lift from my chest
I think my fears started to manifest in my curls and the knots that kept returning reminding me over and over again I needed a desperate change
And now I’m finding myself approaching another much needed change, it’s nice
Silver Oct 2018
the scissor is on your
nape. think away the thought, please

.

.

.

water. there's a drop stroking over the rim that is your forehead. down, down. a

tear. slips down. a tear of

blood. down more. it edges toward your jaw, neck, throat, into a

vein. crawling, descending. throughout your self and your legs,

crisscrossing. spiderveins. open into

roots, white fading to spruce. your feet are gone and you are a

tree. millions more of you but look up to your leaves, flickering green to the sunlight like

a school of fish. silver in the surrounding black. a cold, encompassing, holding, embracing

ocean. you are the water once more. only this time you meet the sky, through a gate called

horizon. endless. infinite. edging, but it only follows you and you it.


are you one with the world? if not, be the world.

you are a world.
they make you sleepy, except for when the part at the back of your neck is getting cut down to less than an inch.

i thought of this while i was getting one and tried my best to write what i remembered after i got home
Morgan Mattingly Aug 2018
My hair came out slowly . Stand by stand. On pillow cases and sweaters. His stayed full and long. I always envied his curl. I cut mine off and didn’t like his reaction. Mine is growing back now.  I think he cut his.
Bella Aug 2018
Okay so maybe I did cut my hair because I was depressed
and what's wrong with that if I did
a healthy release right
it's not something that I regretted
and I wasn't crying while I did it so
isn't it a good thing
even if that's all shaving my head did
was get me to stop crying for the 10 minutes it took for me to shave it clean
isn't that a good enough excuse
cuz it's a **** good excuse for me
Farzaneh Qaf Aug 2018
There is a huge balloon  
Waiting for strangers
Coming out of the haircut Saloon

Drunk, they are
Because of those seacsors
Which were poisoned, holy jesus
by his pills in the jar

My only and one beloved
Came out of baloon!
Before, I was humbled
Now see her changed and
reformed!
Being in either theater or haircut saloon

I can barely know you
When I see your haircut may grow you
Into a **** ***** dancer
Who ruins marital lives like a cancer

I used to pray you all day
Like a nun
in every possible dumb way
Sure I'm a dumb
babe

Lets show me a spot of your shining essence
Then I call you Iglesias,
Holy mother of seasons
.
The Dybbuk Jun 2018
I wake up. The bed is cold.
I am cold.
A gray day awaits.
I stare into the blank ceiling,
And feel an emptiness I cannot fill.
Not without her.
I stand up and shuffle across my shattered bedroom,
To the door.
The glint of the golden doorknob is the only color in this place.
I drink a tea. My mother is worried.
She's starting to notice I'm not eating at all.
Maybe...
It's time for a haircut.
A change...
From who I am. It'll do me good,
To be someone else, for a moment.
"I still love her" I think to myself, but it is silenced when I slice a hole into my head.
It is clean, a thin trail of blood which becomes a waterfall.
It streams down my face, and I keep cutting,
Blood and hair and tears falling as I stare into this broken mirror,
And the most horrible, hideous monster looks back at me.
I hate him so much, and I cut more in hopes that he will look away.
But he doesn't.
His frozen, desolate eyes stare deep into my soul,
Or rather his own,
The poor disgusting *******.
He has forgotten what it is to feel anything but pain,
And even that is escaping him.
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