Xanadu
 

Bruised mannerism expel from my mouth  as I speak my mind to peers. Yet, a side the size of a nebulae peeks its head. A side smooth as lavender, a side as caring as purple yarn. Sides only those close to me see. Around the unknown I am a sea urchin, defensive and introverted.  Resembling a neglected nightshade — no one dares to touch. Though, curious hands will lurk, fresh eyes observe me— watch me. These eyes will toss me away like beets in a meal. Make me feel unappreciated

I clamp down on your hair with a firm,  unforgiving grip–the need to be perfect.  As I go through each strand, you  hear me singing in your ear, creating a smooth glossy masterpiece.  As I move swiftly through, I burn the natural  locks that God constructed.  Day after day, night after night, I am constantly being used. You look in the mirror—hating what looks back at you. In the morning, you plug me back in,smelling the scorched follicles. Destroying who you were– producing