I Took a Pill
Considering a Wonder Pill For Hair Loss? Then This Poetic Cautionary Tale Will Tell You All You Need to Know!

I took a pill to still the shedding of my hair
A meanly coated obscenely green
Lozenge that had a glare
Of unnatural hue, so bright and beaming
It shed fitful colours across the ceiling.
And yet…
I tipped one from the pot and swallowed it
With a tot of rum without a jot of doubt.
I took a pill to still the shedding of my hair
Which offered a sickly, bitter, loathsome taste
That raced across my tongue apace
And made my fair cheeks flare.
‘Course, that’s before the chilling, skittering up my spine
Skating from my coccyx to my nape
To make me quiver and, doubtless, do some terrible
Damage to my liver.
I took a pill to still the shedding of my hair
And now I spy things that were never there:
Purple threatening shadows or enormous marrows
That seems to have replaced my slippers
And give me the jitters when I dare to poke my nose out
From behind my chair.
Yet still they’re there. Daring me to fling my feet toward the door
Before they catch me in their claws. If slippers can have such a thing.
I took a pill to still the shedding of my hair
In hope, I’d no longer grope my crown and find it bare.
Rather, I’d be granted, a thatch of matching
Gorgeous curls, planted upon my cranium like geraniums.
But no.
So, my endeavours proved entirely pointless.
With nothing categorical in the follicle department anointed
Upon my head.
Instead, I have glossy growths of tangling black fur upon each palm
And the alarming and sickening ambling sight of a thicket
Sprouting from each nostril.
But serves me right.
Taking pills to still the shedding of one’s hair
Especially those with unnatural glare
I report is quite the last resort.
Unless one is the sort with a daring personality
With the mentality to flirt with the possibility of finality.
Which I am not.
At least, not quite.
Until the sight of another brew or potion or pill
Fills me with the desire to acquire more hair.
Of which I am, sadly, too spare.
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