Curls (an acrostic poem)

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Cutting her hair, at one time, would make her cry. It was such a horrible experience

Utter fear would grip her upon sitting in the chair knowing she was at the mercy of the hairdresser

Red hair ringlets defined the core of who she was and were her pride and joy, so she was so particular

Letting the electric razor zoom across her scalp, she smiled.

Suck it, cancer! She would grow back stronger.

Blue (an acrostic poem)

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Being depressed on a day where light rains down from a robin’s egg sky

Leaves her wanting to curse up and down for feeling blah on such a perfect day

Ultimately, she goes to her safe space, puts on some B.B. King, and curls up in a ball

Enveloped in her azure blanket, she lets loose her own rain