Washing My Hair

The colors bleed out slowly, 

red & purple running down my body 

like the eyeshadow i’ve never worn. 

They leave behind faded brown among the black, 

random streaks that look bare

compared to the once-colorful masterpiece that was my hair. 

The version of myself i dyed into existence 

washes out with the rest of my identity,

swirling down the drain, 

joining the souls of every child who lost pieces of themselves.