Peroxide

A walking talking boxed-blond disaster,

From the small English city, Lancaster,

With rainbow badges fastened to his shirt;

A shield of deflection from pain and hurt,

But then the peroxide white hair outgrows,

And you find yourself in the same old clothes,

Ready to be fixed with another dye,

This time you say it will work, that’s a lie,

Because outside matters very little,

When on the inside you’re frail and brittle,

But the rainbow badge in all its glory,

Is what makes this your origin story,

For the rainbow is a symbol of pride,

So wash out the dye, you don’t need to hide.