Skin-Screaming

Sun-spots

Radish-Red blemishes

Demi-glazed devilish hiss

We have two birthmarks

One we may get removed

Another we could never

The monarch floats across the sun

And cast a shadow on eyes

Unbeknownst to sight

So they never learn to fly

Moved to the touch

The frantic flitter

Of a critter, arms and legs like fritters

Pitter patter, blackish liquor

The little from the litter

The red butterfly is not peckish

But stings your neck

So you wonder why it itches

The second birthmark is a tower

A deck of hopes and dreams

A place of fiery poison

Holes filled with screams

The second birthmark is the butterfly

The scars drawn upon us

Disappear into the night

Because the red butterfly knows why dawn does

dusk