Villous Dreams

Night upon night, my head-hairs lengthen,
And with all the snip and trim shops shuttered,
I have to allow the transformation
Into a wild-maned heathen warlord.
My hydra-shag will soon confine me,
Lock me in locks that will trip me and tangle,
Unruly tresses be-trussing and trammeling
And trapping the worm in a swad of its making.
Rapunzel I'm not. Hand me scissors,
And I will cut a jagged path,
A means of escaping my silky detention;
Freedom comes in many forms.