At first it was nonexistent. Then blossoming white, blonde hairs started to splurge out of your head. Innocent hair--pure. As you grew, it became tinted as the world imprinted its lies on you. Dirty blonde. Dirty blonde hair that drove you insane, every time you looked in the mirror. Dirty blonde hair reminding you of the filth accumulating in you. Dirty blonde hair that held and accumulated the tears on your face. Each salon visit you left more and more of your locks there. As if cutting them away would make the guilt and the suffering go away. As if somehow it would provide relief or change from the circumstances you’re faced with. But it didn’t. So you changed its color. Dirty red hair now. You look at the mirror and smile, hoping, this is the answer. But you’re still the same. No change inside. If you want to look and see beauty, you won’t get it by changing your hair. Removing the filth and gunk inside yourself, that feeds your roots, has to happen. For now all you have is dirty-dead-dry hair as the symbol of what’s inside you. Hopefully you figure out the answer, my sister.