MY VITILIGO, MY STRIPS
In the mirror, I see a canvas unique,
Where patches of light tell a tale mystique.
My skin, like a tiger's, striped and bold,
Each mark a story waiting to be told.4
Vitiligo, a work of art on my frame,
A beautiful mosaic, not a flaw to blame.
Embracing the tiger within my soul,
In every pigment, I find a role.8
My vitiligo, where patches like puzzle pieces,
Makes me one of God's rarest & unique species.
My vitiligo, strokes of imperfection rare,
Yet each one a masterpiece beyond compare.¹²
Lines and swirls, a unique work of art,
Etched by nature, stitched on me from the start,
Imperfect perfection, a beautiful sight,
Vitiligo whispers, "Embrace the light."¹6
My stripes, my spots, all part of me,
A symbol of strength and identity.
Like a tiger prowling through the night,
I wear my patterns with pride, shining bright.²°
So I roam through life's wild, untamed lands,
Confident in my skin, where courage stands.
My vitiligo and my tiger, hand in hand,
A masterpiece of uniqueness, forever grand.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Image by: Verna GoodVibes
Copyright ©?13th April 2024.
Categories:
vitiligo, 1st grade,
Form: Rhyme
My spotted hand held his striped thigh,
While deep in ponderance as to why.
Categories:
vitiligo, body, desire, first love,
Form: Crystalline
I have a very close friend of mine
Whose got this amazing face,
a work of art I usually tell her
Cause its got different brown colour hues
So when she says she isn't whole
I just take the mirror and point it at her
Showing her how she's more complete
"Look you even got different pieces all making you"
She was shy getting out at times
And she'd always scan her environs
Chosing to wear drappy clothes
So that all you see is her eyes
When I'd take a walk with her
I'd tell her to losen up a little bit more
Cause the more you hide it, the more curious they get
And you'll always be a mystery to their eye
I told her they can't help stare
Cause they've never been close to beauty
Cause you a masterpiece, a work of art
And she's beautiful Cause she comes in blend of shades
I always remind her how she colours my world
That's why I don't see it black and white
For what's good in half truths
While there's lots more to this world
The PO£T
Categories:
vitiligo, art, beautiful, beauty, encouraging,
Form: Free verse
A beautiful fawn was she
With doe eyes that looked away shyly
Had a love for wearing beautiful clothes
So that she could stand out in a crowded world
But fate took a negative turn
When on her skin white patches appeared
She hid from the world which she so loved
Became depressed and into a shell withdrew
I wish she would look up to Winnie Harlow
And prove the world that life can still go on
Categories:
vitiligo, sick,
Form: Free verse
He got on the train at
52nd street. I was already
sitting on the chilly blue seats
with my niece who pulled on
my curly black hair, trying to
get my attention when it was
stolen by him.
With the sun dirty dancing on
his face, I saw him, a man,
so striking, so beautiful he was
his disease, his strength
his strength, his confidence
his confidence, his beauty
his beauty intoxicating.
I wanted to kiss the
blotches of his skin-
the shapes of peninsulas
on his hands, Australia
around his nose, Africa
on his eyes, America
around his lips-
where melanin used to be.
Though I would have given
a little of my melanin to
cure his incurable disease,
he didn't need it. For so many,
outside appearance intertwines
with beauty. He had more depth,
his disease doesn't define him.
I wanted to kiss the
mahogany color of his skin,
smell the butterscotch on his
lips, delve into his mind probably
so rich of diamonds and gold,
he's a remedy for my shallowness,
the train comes to a stop. We smile
at each other as he gets off.
Categories:
vitiligo, beauty,
Form: Ode