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 withdraw. toxically appalling! awfully, too soon. 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