Rage

Rage and fear are my hair
Tangled in knots and painful to pick apart
Even with conditioner.
Sometimes I think my hair is so snarled it will always fold into the knots.
Even when I brush through it it kinks where the knots were,
Snapping into split ends so anyone can see where the knots were.
Rage terrifies me.
That someday I will yank too hard on the hairbrush and all that pain and hurt and anger
Will come flying out
Medusa's snakes
And petrify anyone unlucky enough to be in the line of fire.
It terrifies me when I see other people brushing their hair
I'm so scared of all the coiled up rage and fear and bad stuck in my own snarls
And shocks me when their brushes slide through their own
Glossy locks without resistance
I wonder at their ease.