The Evil Nearest to Me

I have long hair. And sometimes when I sleep, it gets tangled around my neck. So this is inspired by that, mixed with some absurdity.

My hair is alive.

It longs to fly,
But finds itself firmly rooted to my scalp;
It whips around in rage,
Snapping furiously in the wind.

It plots an escape,
Dreams of freedom;
It wraps tight around my throat,
Attempts to strangle me in my sleep.

It tries to pull others in,
As misery loves company,
But, failing that, lashes out at everyone within reach.
It grows, far faster than it should, yet none suspect.

My hair is alive.
It lives.
It lives.