Vitiligo

Vexing spots splattered across my skin.

It hurt my mind, it hurt my body, it hurt my soul,

Trying to hide my spots took its toll.

I no longer heard the question, but I heard who I was slowly dying,

Lying to myself lying to the world, it was a lie that made me wish to die.

It wasn’t until I found my love for clothes that the hate and lies become old,

Glowing up, and growing old, It took seven years but then I was sold. 

Out with the old and in with the new, my spots are a kind of love I never knew.