Still Left to Write

 

I grow weary of whiskers

I tire of hair –

How nice it would be

to have my face bare,

No need for a razor

twood be nice I bet,

No nicks, cuts or bleeding

from my stupid Gillette –

Whose silly idea

when designing mankind –

To have fur on his face

match his behind?

Don’t get me wrong

I like opposable thumbs,

But a mustache and beard

everyday seems quite dumb.

When I finally expire

and my mind stops its knowing –

My face underground

I bet will keep growing,

So don’t let my coffin

burst at the seems –

Bury me please

with some fresh shaving cream.