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.

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