My one half is joyous it's clear and light, My other is dark and likes the cold night. Hide under a veil or face the hot sun, Strangers ask me "what have you done?" It's red, it's dark, it's bright, it's there, I wish I could hide it with my golden hair. You think it's a scar, a bruise, a burn. Why won't people never ever learn? They stare, they point, they laugh, they heckle. Can't they see, it's only a freckle? A spot that's known by a number of names. Like "birthmark" or even an old "port-wine-stain". So please be polite, when you ask me why I have these brown spots just below my eye. I'll explain it, straight out, that'll be the end Then we can move on and become best of friends.