by Branson Neuman

Some may think me vain.

Although I loved the attention of the fairer sex, my texture was why I was proud of
my crown.
each lock, each "Nap", was apart of the ebony essence of opulence.
each follicle a focus of pride in heritage.

My curls may have matched my aesthetic as black and beautiful,
but they also matched my personality:
tough yet pleasant.
reminiscent of my dreams:
unique and sometimes unmanageable
similar to my heart:
sable yet soft.

Some may call me vain.

Often called dramatic.
drastically too tragic
was the separation from my mane.
i was scalped!
as if to cause a caustic
toxically appalling!
the same was done to ancestor’s who shake within their tombs as they were placed
upon display
and taken deftly to their doom.

No more will I refrain from saying what I wish to say.
what I miss about it all was that,
my   hair   makes   me