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Hair, Masculine, Hair, Anything.

When I was young, but growing old, 
My changing body did unfold,
Where once was just smooth pale flesh,
Sprouted an ever expanding mesh,
For a long time I was perplexed,
My body was being hairily annexed!

Dark and tangled, and terribly messy,
There was no order; oh how stressy!
So I proceed to shave them off,
Be gone your body consuming coif!
But they just sprung up ever more,
Catching them was quite a chore.

A hairy leg, no that wont do,
A hairy elbow, no to you!
A hairy back, a challenge for sure,
A hairy crevice, put me on all fours!
Armpits, nipples, chest and toes,
Every follicle was my foe!

For me the hair did represent,
A status I already did resent,
Masculinity, something horrid,
For me it seemed, often torrid,
A funny attitude to hold,
Given I was part of that mould.

My gender I never questioned or veered away,
But challenge it I do, to this day,
Why should men be gross and unpleasant,
To such extent it concerned this adolescent, 
I knew many men that were kind and nice,
But masculinity, the concept, seemed a vice.

But in time my attitude adjusted,
Why battle my hair, why get flustered?
Do the actions of some men,
Mean I should hate my body then?
I learned to love, and to accept,
And so I let the hair be kept.

This was just what my body does,
What sense is there in stopping fuzz?
To be hairy doesn’t mean I’m a monster,
A hairy body does not my morality squander.
My masculinity is what I make it,
My body image isn’t something I have to placate.

So I am hairy from head to toe,
These follicles are not my foe,
Sometimes I do give them a trim,
The urge for order never quite gave in,
But battle ongoing, I no longer do,
With looking masculine, because my hair grew.

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