[Verse 1]
Picture a freckle lounging on your shoulder blade,
one side's a hill, the other's a landslide,
that's asymmetry, the first clue laid—
nothing on skin should ever split and hide.
Border's ragged like a torn-up map,
color's a quilt of brown and slate and rust,
six millimeters, wider than a cap,
and if it's changing shape, don't brush it off as dust.
[Chorus]
A is asymmetry, B is the border's lie,
C is for color spilled like ink gone dry,
D is diameter, bigger than a pea,
E is evolving—watch it, don't let it be free.
But the number that decides if she'll survive,
Breslow thickness, how deep it dives,
millimeters measured straight from the crown,
that's the ruler that tells the whole truth down.
[Verse 2]
Now the knife must answer to the depth below,
in situ whispers, half to one centimeter, slow,
under one millimeter, take a single centimeter round,
one to two, stretch to two centimeters of ground,
past two millimeters, deeper trouble found,
two full centimeters, margin stands its ground.
Cut too little, the cancer creeps on back,
cut precisely, you've sealed the attack.
[Verse 3]
When thickness crosses eight-tenths of a millimeter line,
or ulcerated T1b, don't waste the time,
trace the lymph with dye and a tracer's glow,
sentinel node biopsy, first stop they go,
if that one node is quiet, clean, and clear,
the rest of the basin has nothing to fear.
[Verse 4]
Basal cell's the common one, indolent and slow,
a lazy burrower that won't let go of home,
it eats the skin around it but rarely ever roams,
while squamous cell's the traveler, bolder in its prowl,
in transplant patients, immune shields down,
or born in a Marjolin ulcer, old burn scarred and brown,
that one can metastasize and wear a wider crown.
[Verse 5]
On the face, the surgeon reaches for Mohs,
shaving rings of tissue, checking as it goes,
sparing the nose, the lid, the cheek's thin plane,
layer by layer till the margins are clean.
But Merkel cell's the one that earns a grim respect,
a sneaky polyomavirus they detect,
aggressive, rare, and quick to spread its claim—
small blue cells wearing a neuroendocrine name.
[Verse 6]
Sunscreen's the shield, broad spectrum every day,
yearly skin checks keep the shadows away,
watch your moles like old friends, note each change,
catch it early, keep your story's final page.
[Bridge]
Know the letters, know the millimeters too,
know which blade and margin sees it through,
every mole's a story written on the skin,
read it early, let the patient win.
[Outro]
A, B, C, D, E—watch the border bend,
Breslow deep beneath it, measure to the end,
cut the margin right, trace the sentinel way,
that's the surgeon's skin cancer roadmap for the day.