Mad Hairdresser

She plucked my hair

With great heartlessness

In her clumsy fingers

Stretching, scratching my scalp

*

Until I told her so

I pulled my punches

So, she changed accordingly

In a split second

*

It looked horrendously wrong

Pathetic, all sorts of

When her one eye peeked at one way

The other scowled at me

*

It didn’t last long

This deed of destruction done on my hair

However, it left a disgusting feeling

Wounds requiring proper healing

*

And my decision never to come back in again

To this hairdressing salon full of flies

Although I got a loyalty card

I will never use it in my life

*

As I had to wait to pay

Before a regular clientele was served

For this was their breed

I doubt they’ll even notice me leaving

*

September 2022

***

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.

You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.