Dear terrible haircut, how you have distressed me on this day so cold,
With your strange lengths and lines and angles too bold.
I remember the morning, with hair so long and beautiful to behold,
Now it is gone and I think, what the hell happened? Oh, it must be my mind going old,
For how could I have forgotten this has happened once before,
Instead thinking, cut it again? Sure, why not, let's give it a go.
Are you long or are you short? Should I try to repair the insult done to you?
How much worse could I make it, anything would be better than this do.
Perhaps if I pull you will grow to even lengths, maybe at the least past my chin?
It would sure save me the misery of hiding you behind closed doors or caps and pins.
Sigh. Alas, there is nothing that I can do but let you be.
I must wait for you to grow, but please hear my plea...
Grow little-short-long hair. Grow for me and I promise to never do this again,
That is until the next time. What can I say, sometimes I have an addled brain.
Sigh.
