Unexpected Growth

A small patch of skin, discolored and bold,

an unwelcome sprout, a secret untold.

In the doctor’s stark office, bright and bare,

he squints at my arm with a clinical stare.

'Let’s keep an eye on it,' he said with a nod,

while sunlight painted patterns that felt so flawed.

My mind spins with questions, like leaves in the breeze,

it shouldn’t be here, no roots, just unease.

Each glance at the mark, a worry that grows,

drawing shadows of futures I dare not expose.

I trace it with fingers, as whispers conspire,

my heart, a garden, is tangled with fire.