Shaving Brush Poem by Ragy Sandid

I'm upset
With my shaving brush
Which I get
Then I crush

Fake made
To last
What I paid
For bombast

It hits wet
Then saturates
What it gets
Then dissipates

It becomes two
A loose handle
A brush with root
Now dismantled

A new one comes in
With precaution
To omit last one's sin
To keep its devotion

So wet I make it
Then dry it up
I'll never forsake it
It'll never pop then drop

Kind of like life
Which you want to keep
Strife is a knife
That cuts deep

But you clean the blade
Ready for new blood
The stuff we're made
We're a season's bud