I am the tossed and tangled being,
The loud wild child, I am Free, untamed
like the wind when I’m speeding.
Like the knots in my hair I am stubborn.
I am easily spotted like the wool upon my head
sorta like a green fern.
Like the fro I am spoiled.
because my curls, they stay coiled
I am easily overwhelmed
yet a goddess, when I’m feeling sorta helmed.
Like my curls when clean
personified the fro, it can’t be mean.
I am the Christmas eve. child, the hair is a gift,
A blessing, a present from the roots, yet
when windy it often rather shifts
The big ball of fluff is often broadcasted on a projector
in the front of the class showing all imperfections
Yet it's okay the curls show it with their little right angles
and you can tell by the way it dangles
Happy, I don’t do it on the daily
I am the Fro-Baby