What a joy, my tiny tweezer,
No more waxing, money's tight.
I pull my own hairs out at night.
And lately much to my chagrin,
Eyebrows sprout upon my chin.
(Unless the light is set most dimly
I could be seen as Wilfred Brimley.)
Oh implement so small and humble,
Despite your help I often fumble.
But satisfactions of a tweeze
Give pleasures of a full-blown sneeze.
Destruction of an errant stray
Is tweezer-gasm, in a way.
So I exalt you, useful tweezers:
Hair-zap weapons of us geezers.
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