Please, Don’t Look.

The scissors felt cold, I admit.

My lengths chopped, oh sh*t!

From a long black to a short violet.

What will people comment?

To look; my family couldn’t bear.

But I didn’t really care,

For my newfound debonair.

Will they call me by names and swear?

Ignored all the random voices-

“You look like one of the boys.”

“You made a bad choice.”

Do my friends still think I look ‘noice’ ?

F*ck the gossip mongers and their dominance,

For I love my unshaken confidence.

I never took chances, just this once,

Was the decision worth this nuance?

I wore that saree, to match my hair,

I cared not for their judging stare.

People whispered around me, I am aware.

Did I really lose my ‘pretty’ flair?

With such bitterness we conceal,

I hope this story gave you a happy feel,

Though my situation is far from ideal.

Now that tea’s for another day, deal?

I don’t think you comprehend,

Do you? These naked feelings I penned.

Don’t answer that. But wait, before you head,

You won’t judge me right, like they did?