It was either the scissors or the bottle of bleach.
I chose the scissors and it turned into a form of liberation. An emancipation day significant freedom.
It was more than letting the hair go but a shedding of the shackled weight, which was slowly suffocating.
My nostrils of life are slowly allowing in oxygen. Thumbelina is pushing through.
Source: J. Pierre
I can make your body ache so bad that you cannot sit, stoop, stand or lie still.
I can make you so angry that you wish to hurt the one who contaminated you against your will.
I can make an adult needy like a toddler.
I can make you cry involuntarily and I love it, it makes me bubbly.
I can make you love your bed more than ever.
Turning you into a clean freak, not for long however.
I can make the simplest task feel like a burden.
I can drain you of all of your energy all of a sudden.
I can make you babble like a fool.
Have you sipping all day on gruel.
I am powerful, oh yes I am mighty,
I can bend you, break you, make you flighty.
What Am I?