Back when I was relaxed my hair used to be laid like glue against paper
So laid my edges didn't exist
Miss Balding around the edges
"Ha ha she aint got no edges"
But shoot you couldn't tell me anything!
I swooped that thang to the back
Ran that gel in my hair
and I cut up
My hair was laid like
laid like
Naomi Campbell
I had fashionable chemical burns
sores from wanting to have my hair so straight when it was so short
But shoot honey my hair was laid. Baby boo you couldn't tell me nothing about my straight hair.
Chile please.
Now you can't get me to go back to it.
I run away from relaxers like it aint nobody's business.
Chile, now my hair naps up...
It aint laid no more
I think I have 4G hair, it kinks up like Mufasa's beard
But I don't care, I'm chilling over here like I'm Nahla
I may not be purely african
But I don't care, I know I came from somewhere and when I fro my hair out and it kinks up like nobody's business I feel like Africa.
With my dark skin
High cheek bones
full lips
wide hypnotizing eyes
And slender long neck
I feel like a princess
I feel some kinda way. And it's a good way.
Honey my hair aint laid no more, but shoot....at least it's actually growing now.
YOU ARE READING
Nappy-Headed
PoetryCall it prose. Call it poetry. Call it hastily written words. Whatever you call it...enjoy it. Be saddened by it. Learn from it. Embrace it. Bask in it. These are words written by one woman for all women. You're beautiful. Smile. There is someone...