A Deadly Trick

One again, I forgot to write a poem yesterday. GAHH why am I so forgetful???? I don't know.
Anyway, here is my last poem of April.



Little vial sits in my bathroom,
full of thick orangey-yellow liquid.
I eye it warily, pick it up. It is
cool to the touch, a tiny glass vessel promising
one drop is all it takes.
I turn it over - read the label.
Dead ends are done when you use this magical
elixir.
Broken pieces are no more,
rough will not be a feeling that you are acquainted with.
Smooth sailing.
Perfection comes from within
my little deceiver.
Carefully -
oh, so carefully,
I unscrew the cap and lift
A drop of the potion clings to the underside of the lid -
fleeing the scene.
A smell reaches my nose from within -
dense and cloudy as I pour
a delicate amount onto the tip of my finger.
Just one
drop.
The liquid is gooey, heavy and belies the clear translucency
of itself and it's brainfoggy scent.
Momentarily, I am unsure of my decision.
"One drop,"
she'd said,
"it will fix everything."
I rub the goo between my fingers and inhale slowly.
This is it.
My break-offs, rough patches, dullness and split-ups
will be finished.
Carefully I do what she told me to,
distributing the solution evenly.
I want my hair to be beautiful.