Inked

My body is a temple covered in graffiti. It’s a temple surrounded by lost souls, huddled in masses for warmth.

The pieces covers my skin, telling my stories to those willing to listen without judgement. Those that condemn are not welcome here, and are invited to quickly vacate the premises. We have no time for your kind here, and for once you are the unwanted one.

The ink is embedded in the flesh of my being, input with precision and craft as to accentuate the stories they tell. Without the care put into them, the stories are lost to the readers.

Each color is intricately grazed into the skin. Every shade brushed on delicately like an artist caressing his canvas.

This is me, they shout. This is who I am and what I’ve been through. Read my stories and understand where I’m coming from, I beg of you.

Do not be confused, they are not here for you. They are here for me and me alone. But if others can benefit from knowing these stories, then I welcome you along my journey.