Bad Cut

I needed change, a desperate plea,

so chose the cheapest cut for me.

She had much glitter, on her hand,

a universe I couldn't stand.

Her fingers tugged, a painful yank,

my scalp felt raw, a sudden blank.

She sectioned, pulled, a careless touch,

I didn't say, 'It hurts too much.'

The cold steel blade, a silver wink,

against my neck, made me just shrink.

A little pile, so dark and fine,

my old self shed, not truly mine.

The mirror showed a stranger's face,

this bargain cut, so out of place.

I paid the girl, and left the chair,

with nothing but this cheaper hair.