The year was 1995
I had long hair;
I felt alive.
The hair was lost -
I ceased to thrive.
To accept the loss
First failed but strived.
And in the end,
Well, I survived!

I, myself, have just no time to spare,
To fret, mope, or worry over hair.
But WHY are some compelled to stare?
It's JUST a scalp, so WHAT it's bare?