The Destroyer

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 who I want you to be.