An Ode to Eyebrows (Just Kidding, It's a Bash!)

Is there anyone, anyone at all, who has a clue as to why human beings have eyebrows?  Why?  What do they do?  What is their purpose, if there is one?  Why, why in the world do you and I have eyebrows?

These are the questions I ponder, and to prove my curiosity to the weird hair above my eyes, I am going to dedicate a poem to my eyebrows.  So here it goes:

To my eyebrows, that rest above my simple brown eyes.

Just watching me be sad, laughing at my cries.

You taunt me and tease me, you make me so angry.

Why do you hate me so much, just because unlike you, I can see.

You look so weird, just a random tuft of hair on my face.

What are you doing there?--you watch me like the cops on Cold Case.

You could be so nice, you could shade me from the harsh and brutal sun.

But instead you keep your mane short, doing nothing other than what you call fun.

Only with a mirror can I look at you, can you be seen.

You try to be invisible when you’re not--why are you so darn mean?

My mouth chews my food, my nose breathes in air.

My ears listen for me, my hair is just beautifully there.

My eyes give me sight, my skin gives me cover.

But you, you don’t do anything--you will never find a lover.

I apologize for my anger, my harsh and serious truth.

But you deserve it, bully, you will never run your own kissing booth. (huh?)

You don’t make any sense, moving up and down at your own pace.

You are dorky and weird and sadly on my face.

I’m sorry, old friend, but the truth must come out.

Listen to me, I’m talking to you--don’t make me shout!

I’m done here with you, you and me are done.

Goodbye to you, so long, you are now officially shunned.

Off to waxing!  But don’t worry, I am keeping most of you!  Wouldn’t want to look weird would I?