Bring A Comb

Today I’m still
Measuring lengths
And looking for hairs
That went missing
After shaving off
Pieces of stubble
Stuck to this face
Getting plucked –

Just constantly
Chopping these strands
And questioning now
If they’re even
Despite such care
Being taken
With rulers held close
Near my head,

Chasing confidence
Feeling so lost
Beneath those lines
Always slanted
Like awkward signs
Barely telling
How appearances
Never will last

Despite images
Stuck in our minds
And perfect skin
Lacking wrinkles
Wearing outfits
Stained by obsession
Finding style
Until we collapse.

Staying chic
Means dying through form
Killing time
From wasting existence
While freshening dreams
Growing rotten
Seeking youthfulness
Thinner than skin –

For beauty commands
Every fear
Though symmetry
Squanders its freedoms
Demanding sins
Achieve balance
Only God Himself
Could perceive,

Making elegance
Morbidly brash
Besides vanity
Breeding corruption
Watching grace
Become expectation
Underwhelmed
If glamor should fail

Since charm
Let’s agony play
Where attraction
Causes disruption
Leaving reason
Meaningfully absent
When staring at mirrors
Alone.

  • J. Pigno

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