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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #2140756
A poem about hair care during the grieving process
I wake up in the morning
I roll on out of bed
I see the disaster hair
Sitting atop my head
I'll leave it for another day
One where dad's not tube-fed

I wake up in the morning
Over and over again
With my hair gone fierce and wild
I'll fix it, I don't know when
When dad is feeling better
I'll fix it, maybe then

I wake up in mourning
In a world without my dad
Everything is chaos
Everything has gone bad
I'll fix my hair for the funeral
Even though I'm too sad
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2140756