Hair
When I model it, I see ocean waves.
When I touch it, each curl is like a feather.
When I smell it, It's cellentani with herbs and spices;
so smoth, yet so harsh to the eye.
It's my presentation card,
it's the living proof of ancestry,
it's my main characteristic
that of those curls popping up.
The reason why babies smile,
the reason why kids so loudly laugh
I don't really care if this poem rhymes
becausethi is an ode to my unique hairstyle.
When it's humid, it's quite untidy.
When it's warm and dry, it's beautifully unruly.
When it rains, I'm well aware it's crying.
Always rebellious, always so lively.
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