16 May 2012
There's nothing worse to make you sob,
Than that familiar aching throb,
Upon your nose or face or chin,
A volcano, oozing pus within,
The cruel red dot that mars your face,
Disfiguring, taking pride of place,
Why can't they leave us teens alone?
But no, they're there, we can only groan.
Acne • Opuss № I