Peaking into the mirror I halt.

Bewildered, I acutely examine the birthmark

On my arm, perplexed by my imperfection

Etched so prominently on my tan skin.

Caressing that birthmark I begin to accept

That my pigmentation is naturally kept

By a living, breathing human being.

For there is nothing supernatural about me. 

The birthmark embedded across my shoulder: mine.

The mole directly below my right eye: mine.

Digging deep within my breath and soul,

Between my every single birthmark and mole

I am flawless.