I stepped into a room.
An empty room.
The seats were covered in white cloth,
The tiles were unusually clean.
I sat down on a chair,
shifted my place until
I felt comfortable.
The rips and cracks on the leather,
they didn't bother me.
The procedure begun.
Electric razors skimmed my hair,
severing connections months in the making,
and, in an instant,
they started falling
like snowflakes when it snowed.
But it is as if every strand of my hair
carried with it, a message.
A signal. A dream.
And as the metal blades closed in,
they fell to the floor, swept up, and thrown away.
And it was as if
it took my dreams with it.
Just as quickly it had begun,
the procedure was over.
And, I could already feel some part of me,
was gone.
They handed me a mirror,
and I saw myself in the reflection.
Nothing had happened.
Nothing had changed.
But deep inside, something did.
Because I had let it.
I stood up,
brushed the dust off,
and left the room.
Knowing that I'll be returning here again,
quite soon.
