It’s done. It’s over,
The locks lay in piles on the floor.
The curls of contention,
Are no more.
Pushed to the breaking point,
He gave in.
He gave up the hair he loved,
And the dream he held within.
To conform to others wishes,
He put his feelings aside.
He became their new person,
While his real identity died.
Rhyme
Leona J. Atkinson 09-15-13
Dedicated to my grandson Dylan
Leonas Lines--Poetry Plus 