i cut my hair.
i cut it as if i were cutting a rope that held up all my past life.
The rope fell to the ground so i could start new.
i cut my hair, and as i stared into the silver glass, i could feel the stones sink deeper as i floated upward, towards something that could look me right in the eyes.
strand after strand, each follicle used to consume me, blistering my face every time the wind blew it my direction.
i cut my hair, and with it i cut what i once grasped.
and now i fall.
