Morning mirror, cruel sensation,
a tangle born of aggravation.
Strands rebel in wild parade,
a storm of knots my sleep has made.
I lift the brush, a knight in fight,
against this frizz of endless might.
Each pull, a tug, a hiss, a groan,
my hair declares, “Leave me alone!”
Patience frays, but still I dare,
to wrestle chaos from my hair.
At last it yields, a truce declared,
order shines where snags once flared.
Yet tomorrow brings the same vexation,
a fresh new crown of aggravation.
That is about as aggravating as it gets. Happy Saturday Carol anne.
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A wonderfully vivid and relatable poem! You’ve perfectly captured the universal, daily battle with “morning hair,” transforming a mundane frustration into a epic, miniature knight’s quest. The personification of the hair as a rebellious entity is brilliant, and the cyclical ending—”Yet tomorrow brings the same vexation”—is both humorous and true to life. Delightful work
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Hahaha thank you! X
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Catchy poem. You are so good with that
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Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting to my posts. It is very appreciated.
I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD. Therapy can be very expensive.
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