My New Look

My curly brown hair
a statement made,
it did,
parted in the middle
a bit Schizophrenic, but cool
thought I, anyway,

The years passed
taking the curls, and the color
but leaving the look,
just hidden, that is,
now I have whiskers
not like I imagined
but whiskers all the same
not wanting my feelings
to hurt,
others around me,
kind in their treatment
of my whiskers, unruly are they
curling, just not like I like,
beginning the wrong place,
ending even wronger,

My new look
a form of rebellion
the world around me
never known, has
itching at times,
trim them,
I’ve threatened,
loved and admired
be they not,

Whiskers, unruly
my newest form
of cool