Cutting Ties To Simpler Times Poem by Benjamin Mitchell

I gave up my pride for fifteen dollars
And sat as she cut it with care,
Wondering why, for my pride, I paid fifteen dollars
As I sat, sinking slowly into the chair.
She trimmed a little off my ego.
She leveled my cocksure flair.
She snipped a bit at my impertinent smirk.
All the while cutting my hair.
The last vestiges of my youth
Were readily, steadily shorn.
T'was about time most would say, I suppose,
That mantle of youth was threadbare and worn.
But like my favorite pair of jeans
And the girls that never did last
I'd grown quite attached to these meaningless things
Even my old dog has passed.
The jeans are torn, the hair is cut
The girls moved on long ago.
These things I cling to are all food for worms
But oh, how I cling to them so.