The scalp that once was smooth and bright,
Now's a sight, a constant plight.
Weber's flaky scalp, a curse to bear,
Itchy and dry, without a care.
The flakes fall slow, like autumn's snow,
As Weber's scalp begins to show.
Red and raw, it's hard to hide,
A beauty bane, that won't subside.
The itchiness creeps, like a thief in night,
Stealing peace, and causing quite a fight.
Weber's scalp, a constant stress,
A beauty woe, that's hard to repress.
But still he hopes, for a cure to come,
To end this plight, and have some fun.
A scalp that's smooth, and free from pain,
Weber's dream, to regain his life again.