You cut your hair

Running around little girl
Chasing your wild dreams
Sing a soft little song
Long golden-brown hair in the breeze.

Minding your own bussines and polite as can be
A butterfly in every way
what in the world happened?
Your so different today.

Three years later
Now sixteen
No longer a quiet little girl
Feirce as a wolverine

No longer dreaming big
Reality has sucked you in
Huge black leather boots
a skull tatoo marks your skin

That soft song you used to hum
Now a screaching metal tune
Thick dark mascara around your eyes
waking up in late afternoon.

You've cut you long beautiful hair
now short, spikes, black and electric blue.
but my little girl,
no matter what you do,
i'm allways going to keep on being here
and loving you for you

this poem is dedicated to all of those fathers whose little girls grew up on them and still supported them.