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No One Helps Braid Your Hair
Year one:
You think its easy, everything being handed to you.
It isnt
But you keep braiding your hair
Year two:
You have moved twice, so your head isnt there
good luck,
keep braiding your hair
Year Three:
You find out you might not make it
So you work ten times as hard, exhausting yourself,
But you go back to braiding your hair.
Year four:
This is it.
Your last year and
all you have is a knot in your hair
That you cant untangle...
Braiding your hair is pointless, and now...
So is brushing it.
How could it have gotten this bad?
Why are you not happy?
Where did time go?
Shh, just brush.
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This is an Interpretation poem. It relates to most, in some way, shape, and form. :)