My mane devours hair ties.
It chews up ponytail holders and spits them out.
When hair ties get put in my hair, they know they're tying hair on borrowed time.
No longer will they be worn around wrists,
traded among friends,
or hide in the corners of my duffel bag purses,
they sign that all away when they realize its my scalp they're approaching.
"Give my love to Janice, I hear she's Katy Perry's favorite hair tie,
Give my no-slip grip dress to Charice,
My hair is to hair ties what The Fates are to man.
Once I purchase a new package, the string is cut short.
None last more than two hours before being torn in half,
And I, desensitized to the masses of casualties from my hair,
Toss lifeless hair ties into the garbage can, never to tie again.
"Murderer!" Hair ties scream at me while they strain to secure my 'do.
"I'm sorry," my hair whispers back. She knows not what she does.
My mane weeps as a green victim tightly wraps itself around a messy bun.
"Never let me go." The hair tie cries.
"I promise." Says my hair, even more voluminous than usual.
My hair is big, because its so full of lies.
And then, the last hair tie breaks.
My hair is a murderer and the body count just keeps growing.