I once was stopped,

Roaming in the mall 

An old woman screamed for my golden hair,

Craving for it all.

I longed to snatch her hand, fling

It far away 

Imagining her wrinkled and withered hand 

Flying into pieces, ancients to decay

In lieu, I announced a rebellion 

Cut off the inches that smell of the past

Vivid noises of snips and snaps 

Shiny blonde, leaving at last. 

Gateways were sweet blueberry tips,

And sour green undertones 

I said do it all!

Wash out the gold, down to the bone.

The best are the accidents,

Like light pink flowers to reeking rosy red

Chopped and blended with pinot noir,

But out and in it bled.

A mirror stained with black and white memories,

Now with lost money and a lost self 

Mom said to never dye my hair,

Another me, fallen off the shelf.