The Haircut:

[Universalchild]

1st edit; thanks to tecktaks input (not sure if repercussion works in the 4th)

Looking through up-turned eyes;
a middle-aged reflection.
Smocked and prepped, chin on chest,
riding the barber’s chair.

I succumb to the calming snip-snip-snip. I love the use of succumb here, creates an amusing image in my head.
Sharp steel blades
dance and coldly clip
a receding hairline.

“One size fits all”

Saturday evening, haircut night.
A chair and fifteen nervous boys
carapaced in government-green
of a painted brick corridor.

“Who’s first?”

No one moves; blunt clippers leave scars.
The finger fires at me; I edge forward.
Better to volunteer when the finger points.
Less painful than any repercussion.

Tin bowl on head, I snigger with fear. Snigger makes me think of mocking - is that what you were trying to convey?
A knee connects to my ribcage.
Winded, I double up. The bowl falls.
In silence, the pain wraps itself
around black size tens. I feel this line is a bit pointless and boring, I would cut it out personally.
Eventually i complain in anger. Capital I?

Men running, shouting.
Feet and fists help me to sleep;
thin sheets cover, never protect. How very surreal.
Don’t cry, never cry, never ever cry.

“Does Sir have something in his eye?”

---

Great finisher, hah.

Normally I find "bland" subjects difficult to focus on, but I found this easy to engage with and the surreality of parts of it gave it a quirky spin.