Whack-a-Mole - a Rhymed Raging Over Signs of Aging

I once was young, but now am old;
My skin hangs off my face in folds.
The old libido's growing cold,
And I see Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

This nasty physical assault
Is, truthfully, my own darn fault.
I should have known just when to halt.
Now I see Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

I loved the sun and summer fun;
I'd tan my skin till it was done.
But dots and spots their course have run,
So I need Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

A freeze-off here, a snip-off there,
Until my skin is clean and fair,
With tiny bandaids everywhere
From good old Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

Some biopsies may be required;
On such occasions, I've perspired,
Until results had been inquired
Of dear old Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

And still I crave a sunny spot
To lounge and laze, do diddly-squat,
Although I'm sure, like it or not,
I'll soon see Doctor Whack-a-Mole.

If you are one who loves the sun,
Be careful; here's the 4-1-1:
Rub on the sunscreen; use a ton.
Or you'll see Doctor Whack-a-Mole.