Another Story and Drawn in Ink
By: Twixn then Fractured
Another Story Blasted,
with colors misfit to blend.
With the lies so easily cloaked,
in the dark. Stabbing and probing
at the minds eye.
Perceiving a new landscape
set to droop.
Like the facial features
of one accepting loss.
My story is one,
most wouldn't want to hear.
So I scribble away
and hope it reads clear.
It falls on bleak ears,
as my world turns to Braille.
Yet I was never taught
to feel my surroundings.
Just to hope I find my way
in the dark without a flashlight.
The past is right there,
so to cope, I paint it on a canvas.
And hope it lifts from my shoulders
from time to time.
So I can breathe the air, pure crisp
observe the beauty
I tend to miss while I’m stuck
in this dreamscape I created.
A bubble crafted from tragic actions...
burrowing beneath the city streets
my peace, my torment...
My story.
When the ink stitches itself
permanently onto my skin.
Breathe out then breathe in
so I can imagine the concept.
Why would someone carve
a picture into their body?
I'm sorry, but who's too
question my own decision?
It's my tissue, so I'll rip it
any way that I rightfully want.
And when the time comes,
you can stare at my life story.
It's painted like a sculpture,
printed among the surface.
With a meaning too be told
and a rightful purpose.
Worthless words spread
with ink and various colors.
To give meaning that only
can explain itself to others.
The details in the design
tell it's reason's to the people.
And can describe only the
vivid imagery with a needle.
And for those who sit there,
misunderstanding this freak.
It's just another story,
and drawn in ink.
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