"Roots Under the Skin"
Pixabay
I look in the mirror and no longer recognize my reflection; the marks on my cheeks, those that seem like cracks from broken porcelain. They're not ink anymore; they sting and swallow a dark liquid when the moon is high.
And the lines on my neck... I swear they're branching beneath my skin, like roots of something dead that decided to sprout inside me, feeding on my blood.
You, who are looking at me now through this screen, shouldn't have come so close. Do you think this is just an illustration? Don't you notice the cold that emanates from my gaze? Take a good look at my ash-stained shirt and bead necklaces, which are not decorations but amulets that no longer serve any purpose.
The darkness surrounding me is not a background; it's a void waiting for you to blink and sneak into your room. Don't look away. I'm smiling because I know it's already too late for you, and because hunger - the hunger has finally awakened.
Upvoted! Thank you for supporting witness @jswit.
Until just a moment ago, I had an excellent relationship with my hair...! ;-))
I feel the same about my hair and lines on my neck too. They do have a mind of their own and they don't listen to any word I say. All I can do is let them branch to wherever and grow however.