falling.

snip. snip. snip.
my eyes twitch each time the scissors cripsly split my hair.
though without my glasses the world blurs over,
i could see and feel the strands falling;
onto the chair, onto the cover, onto the floor--
i sigh

the hair ends drop everytime a supposed period passes,
at least, for me

yet i know that even though the hair is cut,
yesterday, and the many days before that--
remains

but somehow,
just somehow,
i believe that the burden is lessened when it--
when it is no longer hanging there