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Reborn Midnight


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.

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