My hair is coming in gray
Just here and there
Strand by strand
I suppose it is a signal that I'm dying
A beginning of the end, so to speak
I find it humorous
That something so mundane
Reminds me of my mortality
In a time when I've only just begun to live
It's the type of humor
That starts off disbelieving at first
But in the end, leaves me laughing in tears
I don't know why this is happening
By all accounts, I feel younger than that I have in a long while
And I have so much to catch up on
How can I possibly let a few gray hairs stand in my way
It is just the voices that they cause
Those niggling voices in my head
"You're far too old to be doing that."
"Look what everyone else your age is doing."
"What are you trying to prove?"
If I didn't know better
I'd say the voices are perpetuating the gray hairs
I'd like to say these hairs are my medals
A reward for surviving life thus far
But that only makes me bitter and melancholy
I try very hard not to get caught up in the
Why didn't I's and the It's too lates.
Each new day is a stepping stone
An opportunity
That I'll be damned if I let pass me by
So I say, fuck the voices
And fuck the gray hairs
I have a box of Loreal Feria with your names on it.