The Zit - A poem in Iambic pentameter

Thine oil hath wronged mine complexion with
The spot upon my nose - O fates, a zit!
'Tis so embarr'sing I might not go out
into the world until this fiend is gone!
O cruel nature that would harm me so
My vanity is suff'ring as we speak
So let me hide my face in a brown bag
'Tis sure to be more 'pealing than my face.