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The Hairy Truth

Each hair I pluck off my body,
baring 
a little more of my skin,
airing 
my insecurities. 
Each hair I lose, 
hiding my flaws. 
abiding by 
unwritten laws
of the society. 
A small part of me 
that's dead
that they'll 
never know, buried 
in my subconscious. 
They only want to see 
the shiny, the soft,
and I surrender 
hands aloft, 
just glad to be seen at all. 
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