Unperceived disparate perspectives

I´m writing on my breadbox.
Did you see me with dread locks??

I said: "round about eighty percent"
Stumbled upon your weird movement
Thought you saw the truth bent
Down and quickly added: "ninety".

I got short hair and learned:
You see me not like i yearned
for, I slowly changed my mind
Your felt not of that kind

"Rather sixty to eighty"
But you still owe me that word
You never paid me
For not trying to hurt

First my vision was blurred
But for now I see clear
What still remains is the fear
That I won´t shed a single tear.