Oh, Adult Acne, without you, where would I be?
You’re always there for the most important things; weddings, reunions, and any time I have a speech.
Bulging, nearly bursting, yet slightly underground. I’m 41 and after all these years you still come around.
I know I shouldn’t try to cover you up, after poking and pinching and prodding you to pop.
No cover up, powder, or sandblaster can make you go away. No, no, no. If there’s a special occasion, you’ve got a prime spot on my face.
It’s always a surprise to see where you’ll settle in, but I can trust it will be my forehead, nose, or chin.
Oh, Adult Acne, you’re just so god damn stealth! What a clever, ironic, puss-filled pal.
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