Baldheaded

I run my fingers through my hair
this hair makes me who I am at the moment
each time I change inside
it changes my outsides too
as a symbolic outcry to society
to the world
that I have grown and changed
and become different
I remember my long hair.
Wavy, split, thick.
Always put in a ponytail, pulled back
babycurls covering my eyez when I wanted to shy away
length that wrapped around my throat suffocating
my inner child growing and changing
My hair has been a symbol for beauty
for someone else's idea of beauty
and today it stops there.
It will be shaken from me.
cut. shaved off my head.
OFF MY HEAD
the weight of society
the weight of beautiful dreams
locked in riglets,
hidden in black brown thick Indian hair.
I never do my hair anymore.
It gets in the way of her kisses at night
when we sleep she holds me and my tiny ponytail
scratches her face.
She turns over and we touch legs all night
because my hairs in the way.
And today,
I leave it to the wind
today I leave it to the earth to dissinigrate.
Today I am beautiful because I said so
And my hair had nothing to do with it.