Closed the scissors on one brown lock
And watched it fall down,
A moment ago, among the crowds
But now, suddenly, alone
One by one, others followed
Silent, resigned, without hurry
I looked down on the growing little heap on the ground
Metaphors escaped me
It did look like a heap of cut hair, nothing more
And the remaining ones, still attached to their roots
Curled up just a little bit more.
I cut my hair today
Because it felt like the right thing to do
Then cleaned the floor
Pushing the once cheerful now dead mess with a broom
If you had even a bit of imagination
You would think it now looked like a mouse
A dead mouse, of course, in the trash can
In my bathroom, in my house
And I almost felt sorry for it
Well, you already know, I cut my hair today
And wrote a poem about it
Not because there is nothing more worthy to write a poem about
but because of all the things that are in my mind right now
this was the most shallow
and I wouldn't be able to handle anything deeper than that.
