Haircuts are fickle things; they're a lot like life
Sometimes you wake up, look in the mirror, and like the way it looks
Sometimes? Not so much
Sometimes you wish your hair would part a little more neatly
And sometimes you find that the style you like wasn't for you
Sometimes you keep your hair trimmed and clean on the sides
Sometimes you wake up with bedhead you think can't be fixed
Sometimes you'll get exactly what you wanted
And sometimes the barber doesn't listen
But what happens we get a bad haircut?
We bitch and moan of course
And we complain and vent and go off how about bad it looks
But more importantly? We let it grow
We let it grow with time and patience
Even if it seems like we can't wait another day
We let it grow by realising that our hair days aren't always good
And that's perfectly okay
Not everyday is a good hair day
But not everyday is a bad one either
Sometimes it may seem like we've got a bit more than the other
But your bangs won't stay lopsided forever
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You had me chuckling and enjoying the moral of the poem