She’s standing in front of the mirror,razor in hand
She is only wearing panties and a tank-top
The sink and floor are littered with hair and some blood

She looks criticallty at her reflection
She isn’t satisfied.
Dropping the razor in the sink, she inspects hair
It’s ginger and short, irregular
It’s dirty and it sticks up in different directions, falling in bangs over her eyes

She looks from all angles possibles amd finally decides it’s enough
She wants to keep cutting, but knows best. It’s enough.
She gathers all the hair in from the floor and throws it to the trash bin
Her left hand starts to bleed again
She picks up the razor and washes it, washes the blood off her hands

She looks into the mirror again and sees someone else
She isn’t the same girl that woke up that morning.