I convinced myself that

Having a permanent

Would hide my receding hairline

The curls would wiggle down

My forehead

I could wake up in the morning

Ready to conquer the world

Without shampooing and

Blow drying

I would look groovy cool

No visible dandruff

A gaunt face fully rounded

The outcome was a Shakespeare tragedy

I went into the twilight zone

And Outer limits

Between ridiculous and fiasco

Waiting months for the brown strands

To grow out

Return me to boring stylings

The last grasp of change.