A mark of creation I am bestowed
of such unalterable permanence
Ivory as the gown of a love's betrothed
secure roots of ancestral pertinence
A crisis endured for ages abound
betwixt my instinct and mentality
doubtfully writ in conviction profound
they call this descriptor identity
Be it the sepia of Gypsy skin
or the crimson passion for a lover?
Be it the virescence of vocation
or a country's flag imbued with colour?
Be it the aureate locks bleached in summer
or the amber pools admired in fall?
Be it the pronoun of one's own partner
or the iridescent bliss love enthralls?
A culprit to all hues that bleed into white form
the mark of Beauty I declare rests quietly adorned.
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