Discolored

it smelled of peach, my hair

neither pride nor of youth

of rot, of perish

rather;

a strand discolored

i pulled it/ it resisted

i resisted the thought of it

neither shame nor of fury

i dislike it, simple.

The defeat

a couple of decades

i consumed, consumed

i lived and lived

but did i?

the shades of time from dark to darker

discolored from the roots

i pulled it.