In Arrears: A Sonnet

My skin has chosen to befriend
a zit beneath my underwear.
I fear that it may be my end,
and worry for my derierre.

I struggle hard to leave behind
the scarlet blotch my cheeks entail,
but hardened seats, (or soft,) remind
me that I face a rear assailed

by blemish. I'm inferior
to cushions of surpassing mass
which pillow my posterior.
I simply wait for time to pass

and count the days 'til it is gone -
this pimple that I sit upon.