Reborn

I sheared my hair yesterday, Cast the crimson poison to the wind. Facing the glass, the mirror screams: Man, what have you done? Her cries in the ash-grey dark twist into song, Man, what have you done? Her sorrow bleeds into a scarlet smile, Man, what have you done? Her hunger wild beneath the amber moon, Man, what have you done? Her aching flesh hardens into iron-black armor, Man, what have you done? Each agonizing pulse, a quiet war won, Man, what have you done? Her scars rewritten into sacred myth. Man, what have you done? The pitch-dark silence begins to hum, A siren rising, lethal and clean. I cut my hair. I am reborn.