Skin's Secret

Caught in the mirror, a spot glistens bright,

a birthmark, my shadow, my uninvited sight.

My mother traced softly, her finger like a pen,

mapping the stories that dwell deep within.

A small, dark reminder, a point of disdain,

yet tenderly whispered, it lives through the pain.

Under sunlit embrace, it catches the light,

a history written, both fragile and slight.

I glance at it often, my skin's secret song,

a part of my story that’s right, yet feels wrong.

Where comfort and sorrow collide in a dance,

I wear this small mark as a badge, as a chance.