O, blemish! how falsely named are you!
While others may lament in your presence
I see past the festering oil!
I overlook the patchy skin!
The bulging whiteheads,
The blackheads dusting the nose like the devil’s pepper,
These are naught but adornments in my eyes!

You are my truest friends,
Only a glance in the mirror away.
You share my anguish and my joy;
You can never do me a wrong.
And even in my lowest moment,
When I must face the masses
Defenseless and alone,
There you are.
Throwing me a surprise party,
And inviting all of your friends!

Is this not the mark of a true comrade?
To rally the troops, to stir them,
To bring them forth, into the eyes of the world?
I strut proudly into the daylight
Knowing that my pustules stand with me.

Can you not see my mighty and numerous army?
Full of life and energy,
Bursting at the very seems,
Fluorescent with power and swelling with pride.
Ah! See, they break over my very flesh!
They simply cannot be contained!






And when I see when others smother you
In creams and gels and masks,
I cannot help but gasp and shudder!
And my horror can never be contained
When my eyes behold the upmost evil
Those two ghastly fingers
Closing in to seal your doom.
I turn away, and a tear falls.

So may those porcelain faced dolls be forgotten!
Those smooth faced cherubs scorned!
And may the pimple-graced Pizza-Face
Be crowned as a king.