Tyrant of Her Tresses

Whats in this story

You are part of an army of 100,000

And until now, each of you had your place


You weren’t to leave it

You had to be just so

Clean and sleek and beautiful

For you had a job to do


Your Queen,

Who called herself the tyrant of her tresses

Was a dictator, indeed

Not evil

But insecure

And quite sure of something untrue…


See, she thought that

With you standing at her castle gates–

Polished and pristine,

The dream fleet,

Warding off the world’s unwanted suspicion

With your protective perfection–

No one would suspect it…

That your Queen,

The woman who groomed the almighty you,

Was broken


So you had a secret or two

She was a mess but so were you

Your perfection was a projection

You were merely a false distraction

A deflection for her misdirection

And to make you into what she needed you to be

She abused you

Cut you and burned you

Forced you behind a mask

She shaped you into something you weren’t

Replaced your authenticity with something more suitable

for the woman she thought she ought to be

If you stepped out of line you were quickly righted

For her identity was wrapped up in you


If you were out of control then so was she

And that just couldn’t be


For years you were her veil

The wall behind which she cowered

Until one day you turned to find her standing proudly on her throne,

She tore her perfect dress and smeared her perfect lipstick

And with a wild look in her eye

She threw her head back

Shook her mighty mane

And roared,



All of you

This way and that

We were never meant to be tamed

But now we’re finally free

I’m done pretending

Let them see

That we’re not polished and we’re not pristine

I don’t care to be anyone’s dream

Except my own

And mines a rumpus

Fucked up and dirty

Crazy and tangled

Sexy and silly

It has no rhyme or reason






And from that day forward the tyrant of her tresses began calling herself  a name she had never much liked before then…