Split ends...
Fly aways...
Product treated hair tends
To have its bad days.

First it was light and fair,
And rather wirey.
Then in my cosmetic lair,
I turned it fiery.

But when I went out
I was told by my buddy
That it made me look stout,
So I made my hair muddy.

But I soon did find
That Bo didn't like brown,
Though he tried to be kind,
He still made me frown.

The next day I colored again
And made it midnight,
At 1/2 past ten,
Now the other color's out of sight.

Still it didn't seem enough,
So I chopped it real short
Which was rather tough
For a girl with hair longer than a day in court.

Then looking at the elfin face
Staring me down in the mirror,
I realized this cas a race
To see if I'd hear her....

That mirror girl
Telling me "this is you",
A special pearl
That only God truly knew.

So stop hiding
From what you are.
Keep on riding
'til you've reached your star.