The mark, this mark
Defines me
As it is one of the many things that make up me
I feel the need to hide it.
Embarrassed by the curious glances
At, it.
It’s naturally hidden
behind a stringy mess of deep brown
mistaken for black.
Only found when the stringy mess is lifted
held by different colored bands
As a child
it was embraced and protected
as birthmark
As teenager
It is irritating and greatly disliked.
like an ugly curse.
I wish it would go away,
I can take it away
but it’s the only thing defining me
why do I hide it?
By: Imanni J.
Feb. 11th 2013
YOU ARE READING
Expressions
PoetryMy attempts at some poetry feel free to leave lots of constructive criticism. Leave suggestions about topics also. Thanks.
