Dozens of women chase after my half brother.
He only has half the hair that I do because he has a human mother.
Lots of women jump his bones because of his lack of hair.
Not even one of them have jumped my bones and it's unfair.
Just for once I wish that I was the one who the women adore.
But they rip my brother's clothes off and I always get ignored.
I'm frustrated because of this anger that I harbor.
People say that can be fixed by a trip to the barber.
My brother keeps getting women; he's knocked up over twenty this year.
Because I'm nearing forty and am unmarried, my mom thinks I'm a queer.
I went to the doctor yesterday because I felt under the weather.
He said that I have virginitis which means I'll be a virgin forever.
My brother rubs it in when he and his ladies get together because they always have a hoot.
I may not have the women but at least I'm not the one who was just slapped with a paternity suit.

(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)