When a forehead becomes a five head

Today, I have written a poem for my reader:

When your hair line is receding
and you look upon your brush
you find yourself repeating
“it is not falling out, so hush”

You know it is time to agree
that the inevitable is true
sometimes what you find and see
is going to make you feel blue.

Bad rhyming words are all the rage
your hair is falling out
Some things should be kept in a cage
and this you may not want to shout.

But baldness is not the end my friend
Depression should not follow soon
it is proof that you’re gaining brains
hair is being pushed out to make room.