A Secret's Weight

She raised the scissors to cut off her braid,

Since having grown too old for girlish ways,

Black circles lay beneath her vacant gaze.

She paid for all of this, for all she paid,

Cupping her hands to drink a brutal brew,

Mentioning this to no one, or the stain,

A secret’s weight carried, along the chain

Of years.  She did not know and never knew,

The others nodding hello in the street.

How could they not see her for what she was?

Not recognize her for the thing she was?

Never notice, although their eyes would meet?