Fling

I wear my independence in my hair:
Rebellion is held in its waves,
Tempestuous tendrils curl on my forehead,
Fiery will and unbridled eccentricities flow down
My back, strength drips from the tips;
A toss of autonomy comes with a flick of the head,
The intensity of vehement locks weigh me down,
Ground me,
Mine, all mine.
Some have tried to tame me with a simple shearing,
Only to find it grows back again, just as wild and free, as before.