Hate my Hair

My mother cut my hair yesterday

Against my will

I watched as these pieces of me

Fell to the floor at the hand of a blade - deja vu

It was the one piece of me

That was free from insecurity

Now it is short and dark

Like my mind.

I talked to my friend this morning

But the words felt forced and wrong

I watched as our relationship

Began to unfurl - I don't think I can talk to her again

Anytime soon

But I've known this was coming

Because we've been drifting apart

For a while.

I'm gazing out the window now

Begging, pleading, crying, yelling.

Watching as my family is torn apart

Piece by piece, we

Are cut off, drifting away.

How can a broken family compare to a haircut

Or losing a friend?

Yet somehow

It does.