I was scared… But determined to get inked.
Revolving around me were the rumours and it’s links.
Unknown perks of discovery hit me,
I was eagered to get the ink flowing inside me.
“You will die out of skin or blood cancer” they said.
Classy people don’t get tattoos… And Oh yes, they fade!
So many false articles I read,
But the true story shoveled away the thoughts now dead.
As I waited in the studio, debates heated my brain…
My mom and dad will throw me out if they find the ink drained!
But I wanted myself a tattoo, a sign of my adventurous soul…
Should I? – Was the question… Or to play the classy daughter’s role?
The delicate seams of teachings felt heavier than my thirst,
But I couldn’t let the haters hammer me, turn my desires into dust.
And I landed on the hot seat, the gun loading in front…
The target – my hand, burning in my pocket a blunt.
I heard of the pain, of the tears and the screams,
But I wanted to endure it all… feel in my dream.
With all my senses alive, the needles spread it’s wings,
Smiles accompanied the pain, I was enjoying every blink!
Breaking the taboo set by my family… I relished the deep dive.
But the portrait of my family haunted me, the phobia was still alive.
While the surface came peeling off, my heart beats fell,
But with every exposure the wonder came blooming out of the shell.
I carressed and cuddled my new found love…
And protected it from every tempest that evolved.
Every day seem adventurous while hiding it from the circled rows.
Giggling to myself, I let my rebel heart glow.