Cover, straighten, cut, and Hide
People have told me all my life.
My hair is a weapon for the revolution.
A tool to cause problems.
But never to be seen in a menses of beauty
People say you can’t be seen by a man with that mess of wool on her head.
Not considering how cool this wool can be.
Never in my life have I felt like the object of desire
Men walk right past me as if I should expire.
Not knowing that our beauty has been ripped away and told to be put in a box.
It’s just one addendum to how he chooses to see me,
Never is there a time where I am meant to be a
Standard.
With that standard being so strong
It shouldn’t be wrong for my hair to be silky and long
He ignores me, does not see me as his.
I know in my heart his validation should not be where ends meet
But how will I survive without ever be seen,
Or to breed his touch.
I gave him so much and now he wants to throw it all away
Putting me through this tried cycle.
Why must I always fight to be loved,
Why must I always have to be an exception, instead of the expectation.
I just want to be loved and cherished.
Feed me the scrapes is what they say
I deserve nothing, pushed aside to make room for his ego.
Well, you must understand right,
You must push aside your pride, and take what you can get
We all know that you can’t pull more than you push.
But why don’t I stop pushing, and start to pull
Pull what the lord or the world knows I deserve.
Never settling for scrapes but rather the roses.
So, I walk back into this tired old room
And now I must say that I’m done
He needs time he says,
Well, my heart is on a clock as well,
and she speaks that
His time is up.