Allandro
Idk anymore🇮🇹
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2022
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The Norwood Reaper, a silent thief, Steals hair from heads, with each new grief, His scythe may be invisible to sight, But his presence brings a balding blight.
He prowls through streets and homes unseen, Taking follicles, strand by strand, with no serene, Leaving behind a trail of barren scalp, And those affected, left with a mournful yelp.
No one can escape the Norwood Reaper's grasp, For he moves with stealth and cunning so fast, And once he takes his toll, he leaves no trace, Except for the evidence on the affected's face.
Oh, Norwood Reaper, we implore thee, Have mercy on us, and let us be, But alas, he is deaf to our pleas, And his balding touch affects all with ease.
Remember my ugly celto-italic mug if I'll ever decide to end my suffering.
He prowls through streets and homes unseen, Taking follicles, strand by strand, with no serene, Leaving behind a trail of barren scalp, And those affected, left with a mournful yelp.
No one can escape the Norwood Reaper's grasp, For he moves with stealth and cunning so fast, And once he takes his toll, he leaves no trace, Except for the evidence on the affected's face.
Oh, Norwood Reaper, we implore thee, Have mercy on us, and let us be, But alas, he is deaf to our pleas, And his balding touch affects all with ease.
Remember my ugly celto-italic mug if I'll ever decide to end my suffering.
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