Aiding the enemy they told the woman
Her eyes were looking at no one
Nor did she see the scissors approaching her head

Cold was the sound 
of the clacking steel
Then the dripping blood
warmed her scalp

They always get the women by their hair
where she is the most naked
Hair remembers the hands and faces that were once buried in them
Hair reminds now
all who has given up on it

Women resist their hair though
they won’t cut them, they brush them all the time
As a promise to life
Inside always that sound of steel
Clacking clacking

Only when the world is quiet during the nights
When the hour of remembrance is striking midnight
all those who reside in the hair
those hands and faces come back
The woman brushes her hair a hundred times
spilling all those from within her shiny strands
all those that have flaked off of her life

She never knew any other way anyway…
Carrying your hair a bit
it is, the so-called life

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