Of the mole
I had
In the middle of my neck.

It was pea-sized,
And brown
And slightly dangerous.

So they took it off
And all that's left
Is a faint, barely seen scar.

As I examined my
Wounds Of The Day
In the mirror, I noticed
The scar again.

I had not remembered
It was there, or that there was
Ever a mole, by which
It was caused.

It's not a secret, deep and
Desperate enough, for me to
Tell my friends about, so they
Don't know I had a mole.

But it did happen, and was
A prominent feature,
Of my earlier years.

I find it odd,
That such a thing
Can be just casually ignored.

I find it logical,
That such a thing
Will be just casually ignored.

But the cluelessness
Of those closest
Awes me still.