The hair on the skin cry out
The hair in the nose freak out
The hair on the head pouts out
And armpit hair ask why?
If it is being bombarded with scents
It has its fair share
Being hidden and suppressed
It has its fair share
Apart from those who live in the nose
Who occasionally meet the slimes
What could they be complaining about
When they all have sunlight and air?
The eyebrow tells its tale
No matter where we are placed
Our complaints will be heard
The bad sitting strongly on the good
Confusion, confusion
Our very existence is confusion.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
Mum Cee 