Oh stache, you rest just above my wide smile
You're a wee patch of hair that is really quite wild
I know you're a part of me—I just don't know why
You're like eyebrows for lips instead of...well, eyes
I tweezed you and bleached you and Nair-ed you right off
But then two weeks later you're back LIKE A BOSS
Don't you baby hairs realize that I am a girl?
And can't grow a handlebar mustache that twirls?
I don't like you, my stache—but I might like a beard
Then I could talk like a pirate without seeming that weird
But who am I kidding? I'd rather no hair at all!
I wish my nose-lip isthmus could just be plain bald
So I'll see you in two weeks, oh my Lady Stache
But for now I'll subject you to this hot, painful wax!!!
And next time please grow back a little less thick
So I don't have to someday resort to a Bic....
In the meantime I'll live my life mostly stache-free
Til we meet again in the mirror, you fuzzy lady