This was a poem written to me by my wonderful daughter, not about alopecia, but other traumatic events in my family. My interpretation is below the poem. I share it because my daughter is so special to me and through her own terrible experiences has gained insight into my family's pattern of disfunction.

The edges perceived
A shaded circumference
Round staged lives
An inherited image
Seen stagnant and solid
Made mortal and mean
Through matriarchal eyes

Clasp savage cut tips
Runs blood dripping fingers
A desperate and pitiful
Paid in full positive position

Truth held lies
In truth riddled visions

Edges expire
Hand slides
The mind glides

Stop gripping at the gone
Breathe air
Move on

This is my own interpretation:

I see you living a limited life, hemmed in and trapped by rigid boundaries imposed but promising to be safe. Rather than nurture you, it turned out to be a heartless dictator that became twisted and deadly. Your mother turned against you yet still you held on with all your strength - though the pain and loss of that illusion of safety broke your heart. Your struggle to remain hopeful dwindled as truth counteracted the lies. Your grip loosened, your mind freed as the boundaries imposed by others dissolved. Let go of it - of them. You are bound to their demands no more.

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