In realms of facial growth, a tale I weave,
Of beards that once adorned, a sight to perceive.
But now, my stance has shifted, a change of heart,
For bearded glory, I've chosen to depart.
Once upon a time, a bushy mane I bore,
A chin adorned with pride, my face obscured.
But now, oh how I long for bare expanse,
No longer captive to the facial dance.
Pigeons perched upon the whiskers' domain,
A flutter of feathers, a sight quite insane.
Their beady eyes and curious pecks,
Reminded me of nature's perplexed.
Alas, dear beards, our journey must conclude,
I've found a path where smoothness is pursued.
No longer tangled in the follicular haze,
I bid adieu, with no more delays.
So let the pigeons roam and frolic free,
As I embrace a visage that's clear to see.
No beards, no feathers, a face so clean,
A choice I make, though once a bearded dream.