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Miladys, For all my springs, I was a lion With kinks and knots in my hair "Your hair's too tough to comb!
I remember when the sun soared high over the green grass of my lawn I remember sitting, pondering why was I so different I sat in my chair, slouched
I am not a slave to my looks therefore I am not a slave to my hair. Next time you say, Girl! You will never get a man with that hair.
We press it, cut it, blow it out, and pin it up We change our texture because it’s not desirable We dye it as the trends change And we die a little more ourselves each time