Visibly a natural patch
prominently marks in such
one of the nice legs to watch
people often notice so much.
I wished a shooting star to erase it,
albeit doesn't bother me a bit;
sans of idea how I got it
wondering if it has pained me the least.
Past were the moments of agony
I buried in the gutters of memory;
the anguish, the bitterness and misery
never cease the effort of haunting me
driving my mind to uncertainty,
beneath the surface of reality
lies the most part of vulnerability
my bruised heart, bearing invisibly.