Delilah
One gold hair for character
One of grey to lose your strength
Ilk of Samson, head an abattoir
An endless string that cuts its length
While fraying the eternal
Staring down at blood and meat
Like they were apothecaries
For the strength that moves your feet
No more judgement
No more might
The lion’s jaw won’t open
Until they turn off every light
I cut your mane
Though the wait seems never ending
Once the ether earns its keep
Those voices echo in the doorway
You adorn a mask of sleep
And try to quell the peace and quiet
Until your thoughts can turn to face
The mirror, spilling vitriol
In a drip to match your pace
No more judgement
No more might
The lion’s jaw won’t open
Until they turn off every light
I cut your manemore