Alopecia, alopecia, pate misfortune—
mop top unfilled, looks like pills on knit-goods pile.
Hair off spilling from above; hirsuteness is doomed. . .
zero alopecia: a fleecier hairstyle.

Threadbare-head rile elicits no smiles!

Looks lots like dome hit bad weather. . .alopecia.
It ain’t wanted, makes it hard to do a part.
Falling, bald, it makes “leper” your aspect:
there’s nary splits, ’cause slight is hair.
It’s peeling off your bean. . .alopecia.
Gotta call plumber to make clustered clogs depart.

Alopecia, mean thou art!

You burn while you watch strands go from alopecia.
Got no patefull, but hair-growin’ might restart:
slather a tad, sit and let the stuff set
upon thinned hair; make sure ’tain’t Nair!
So get steeled; with it deal, alopecia.
No pain, no gain, paste on Rogaine; maybe look smart.

Alopecia may de-fleece ya.