Raw beauty

Thu, 01/08/2015 - 16:44 -- LivJ98


I arise with the sun, and shake free my wild mane.
Thick, long, tendrils of tousled curls grace my head, 
just as a crown upon the head of a king.
Its twisted nature only rivaled by the twisted thoughts that cloud the head it adorns.
I wonder if my hair knows that I am lost...
And therefore follows suit by wandering aimlessly in all directions. 
A beautiful mess of kinks and coils that I wear proudly as a badge, 
given to me by Mother Africa herself.
Proclaiming that I am beautiful. 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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