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| Madame Scissorhand A haircut from a child's perspective Snippety-snip! The locks fall off my head. Tumbling down in a heap and looking quite dead. Still, with a frown, she combs through my hair, looking for errant strands that might be hiding in there. Spritz-spritz! Water sprays everywhere. It goes right on my face though it was meant for my hair. Yet, she doesn't say sorry. Oh no, she does not. Instead, she calls me unruly. "Why's your hair all in knots?" Fluffety-fluff! I sneeze in dismay. Did she just powder my neck? And what's with the blade? I try not to shudder, but my hairs stand on end, as she shaves my nape with a tickly hand. Swish-swoosh! Off comes the cape. I can finally breathe! Finally escape. But I glance at the mirror, and that was my undoing. What's this hairstyle I see? T'was surely not of my choosing! Not sure how much "awareness" this poem conjures! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |