To curl or not to curl-that is the dilemma:
Whether it’s the hair’s own mind to decide
The heat and damage of outrageous twists,
Or to go natural against a plastic society
And, by opposing, look bad. To curl, to straighten-
No more-and by straightening we end
The ugliness and the thousand nasty looks
That hair is crucial to-be a finalized
Project to be desired. To curl, to straighten-
To straighten, for pin straight hair. Ay, there’s the curler,
For in that curling of hair is what makes beauty come,
When we have washed off this hair spray,
We give our hair rest. There’s the serum
That makes our hair have so long length.
For who would touch the splits and damages of hair,
The hairdresser’s hands, the proud hair’s softness,
The layers of gorgeous hair, the time delay,
The uncooperation of hair, and the undone
Parts that look unworthy of looks,
When she might just fake
With a bare wig? Who would believe that,
To tug and touch under an itchy wig,
But that the real hair is something feared,
The undiscovered horrid of natural waves
No girl appreciates, puzzles the boys
And makes us rather appealing of what we have
Than to resort to other products that we know not of?
Thus gorgeousness does make girls insane,
And thus the natural hair of girls
Is frizzy over with humidity cast of weather,
With this regard their powers turn waves
And lose the name of Chi.
