One morning...

I kept on looking into a frame of glass

Feeling very strange to see a man just like myself

Rubbing his cheeks with fingers on black grass

Watching him closely to find he had lost himself

I heard my name being called out loud

Urging me to make it real quick

Soon I realized I was in a misty cloud

Waking up myself to the noisy kick

I hate to see it fully grown

As it makes me look hopeless

Hate to spend time to cut them down

Wondering why can't I grow ageless

Now there is no escape
I've to give my face a good shape
Without getting it rightly shaved
People think I am severely enslaved