This Mole

I'm picking a mole from my arm because I don't like it. Its placement, its color, shape, its unconformity, its threat, all bad. But on my other arm I have an arrow pointing to another mole, which I like for its rich brown, its discreetness, it flatness, the value I've given it as a corporeal encapsulation of the darkness beneath my darkness (golden olive) and the point in time in which I am always immersed. I need to reconcile the two.