"scal" poems
the ghost of my cut hair
still haunts me
i wish it could grow faster
the dreams of my childhood
still come back to me
in conversations with people who say i was only this short
when they saw me last
i wish i could grow quicker
they say when you cut your hair
you have a new life
(or something like that)
but my fingers still ****
when i run them
through
my
scal-
and every single day, i've
forgotten
just how long i've been
my hair is rust
in spaghetti form
with lots of frays
at the ends
i remember i wanted to be a zoologist
and model
a-
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC