Javelin

Dried red rings stained to my sink

From the time I helped you dye your hair pink

My hands still sting from the cheap bleach

You used to remove the color from your roots

Indigo hued puce reminds me of the time

I helped you dye your hair green then blue

Your sun freckled grin, wispy and thin

punctures my skin like a flying javelin

And we change faster than your hair comes out green

Pink makes her scream and shout

Fall out, don't ya fall out of love with me