A poem I wrote because the kid I like cut his hair.
Long brown hair that never ended. It was thick and it looked soft. I may have touched it once, by accident maybe. I doubt he realizes how much I loved his hair, being able to recognize him in a crowd of people, or being able to mention it to my friends and have them agree that it defined him. He also has big brown eyes. And he's incredibly smart, smarter than me. And he walks with confidence. Overall, he doesn't care what people think. It had nothing to do with me, its getting much warmer and if I had the option, I also would've cut my hair. He doesn't care about my opinions, or even who I am. I just wish he cared when he cut his hair.
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