I think I have my dad’s blue eyes.
I know I have his witty guise.
I have a mole on my left arm,
Right where all of his charm,
Pours out and makes a mess.
I know I have my mom’s slant smile.
I write and talk in her frank style.
I have mole on my right arm,
Right where all of her smarm,
Oozes out and makes you smile.
I don’t know who I think I am,
I’m not a lion and I’m not a lamb.
I have a mole above my heart,
Right where I thought my soul should start,
Though it leaks out a coded telegram.