Bald
I wish my
hair’d catch fire,
So I could
put it out of its misery,
Cause’ it’s
falling out like a college kid
At their
wit’s end.
Straight
down to the root
Of the
problem
Are strands
unwound in horror.
And they
twist and turn till they fall straight out.
And all I
can see is my scalp,
And it
makes me want to gag,
Because I
hate feelings so bare,
And I hate being so nude.
I’m not
proud of my egghead,
And I don’t
want it to shine under lights,
And I don’t want the big bowl atop me,
To be not
hair, but skin, bone, muscle.
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