My head looks moth-eaten, an embarrassment.
It is almost just like follicles can’t pay rent.
Look at me now: there’ll be no return,
above my brow, of a mane that was once so whole;
what’s left’s a keratin atoll.
Just one look and you might see hairy string—
follic’ nooks contain hardly anything. Woe-oe!

Alopecia: hair, bye, goes again;
flies, flies; to date I resist tou’.
Alopecia: when wind blows, again—
flies, flies—bald spots no one’s kissed. Euw!
Once it was nicely parted;
now in a trice, departed.
Cry, cry I; all the day my tears flow.
Alopecia, increasingly grow
shines, shines on my dome where’s hair no mo’.

I was hairy on head: came out a bit, then a slew;
the drain down it went when tines of the comb went through.
I’d watch it go, cascades to the floor;
I tried a combover after I grew strands long.
Just one look and you might see hairy string—
follic’ nooks contain hardly anything. Go-oes!

Alopecia: hair, flies, goes again
bye-bye! My mates eyes are winced too.
Alopecia: when wind blows, again—
shine, shine—bald spots are evinced. Euw!
Once it was nicely parted;
now it’s like ice departed.
Cry, cry I; all the day my tears flow.
Alopecia: more’s going away:
bye-bye. . .leaving as if severed.
Alopecia: on a sunny day,
shines, shines like a hen de-feathered.

Alopecia: hairline rose again. . .
Flies—bye! How can I resist tou’?
Alopecia: when skin glows, again—
I ply bald spots with what grips: glue.
Again, it’s nicely parted
since mastic, vise-like started.
Pride, pride in my pasted pate I show.
Alopecia, no one has to know:
I hide shiny spots with mop that’s faux.