Silly poem about a hairbrush.

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My hair has to look perfect.

My hair has to be right.

If one hair is out of place,

I’ll be crying all day and night.

So I take my precious brush

I’ve been using for twenty years,

And I brush one hundred strokes

Until my perfection leads me to tears.

The chicks all adore me

Thanks to my gorgeous, manly hair.

It’s wavy and a natural brown.

Please handle with the greatest of care.

Thank you my gold plated brush.

You are my truest friend.

With you there is no phoniness;

With you there is no pretend.

As long as you stay by my side,

I’ll be forever in your debt.

I owe my cool hair thanks to you.

For you, I’ll never be upset.

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Comments (3)
  • hfj on Jul 10, 2009

    If you were bald and lonely,
    I’ll tell you what you could do
    Go out and buy the best toupee
    And a case of of Elmers glue

    Then you would be styling
    The women wouldn’t leave you alone
    A hairbrush you would be buying
    To brush while you are on the phone

    Making dates with a different women every night
    Living like there is no tomorrow
    Spending all your money on the ladies
    Until your broke and alone in sorrow!!!!!!

    Well done Steve. Nice poem.

  • OhSugar on Jul 11, 2009

    Excellent piece. I enjoyed reading and laughing.

  • sheba on Jul 12, 2009

    All I can say is LOL! Thanks for sharing!

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