The Plague We Call "Hair"

It started small, harmless, a single strand growing at the cusp of my ankle.

I plucked it.

She came back; this time with a friend

They too were plucked.

Again, they returned. like the Hydra, cutting one only to have two more return in it`s place.

Only this time it started to spread, 

Spread like the Onyx Plague in the mid-18th century.

Slowly crawing up my leg, unfurling it`s thin, black soldiers on every ounce of once satin skin.

It is now being shaved, sedated by a tri-bladed wand and an ounce of conditioner.

But alas, like a hungry newborn babe, it wakes up. Grows and spreads, once again claiming it territory.

I have given up.

Finding comfort in it`s company I have finally learned it`s name.

It is called "Hair".