My Birthmark and Me

Jelly nose, meat face

Salami, Rudolph, red.

“You know you can get rid of that,”

That’s what they all said.

I went to the Shriner’s circus

At about five years old

“We can provide removal for that.”

That’s what I was told.

Elementary, then middle school,

Every year I’d get the stares,

Teachers, classmates, parents,

Avoiding eye contact when they thought I cared.

“All faces are symmetrical,”

Is what the art teacher read.

Everyone but yours!

Is what some kid said.

I remember one day in homeroom,

My desk-mate turned to me.

“What’s that on your face again?

Oh, I thought it was jelly!”

Just walking to my seat

As cheerful as could be,

A teacher asked what happened,

And said I could get it removed by surgery.

A fellow camper comes in one day

With a fake tattoo, he shows.

A blurry strawberry, and guess where?

On the left side of his nose.

Sixteen years old

Driving hours almost done

The instructor says it would “enhance your appearance

If you got that removed, hun.”

Walking from my field hockey game,

A man comes up to me

“Do you need an ice pack?!

Is your face still bloody?!?!”

Every time I babysit,

The girl will poke the stain

what’s that boo-boo on your face?

It’s a birthmark, there’s no pain!

Don’t worry everyone

I’m doing just fine

My birthmark and I are inseparable.

It’s a mark that’s solely mine.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of

There’s nothing wrong to see.

I’ve just got something different.

I love it, my birthmark, me.