Broken Habits

habits

I have many habits
Only two have I’ve broken

The index finger
Which provided many nights
Of comforting sleep
Tucked inside my mouth
Lost the battle
To delicious rewards
In the morning
When the finger
Was found to not be a prune

The other was the soft spring
Of the hair towards the back of my head
That wound around my fingers
Performing tricks between the knuckles
It lost the battle to age
The reward being baldness

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