You from a past age,
so naive, a hurt soul.
If only, yes if only
The past version saw,
what they would become.
wondrous, woeful?
How would thou process?
Would it be quite hard?
Maybe with drink, with
bardic delights.
Melody covers
the pain of the past.
Maybe you conjure
more physical means.
take the leap and taste
the bite of many
needles... Full of ink;
art, for arts sake... hmm
But what of real pain?
What of skin taken
and agony found?
Scars abound beings
tortured, and flesh bound.
Many, many ways.
To cope and to hide
true feelings inside.
Grand art; grand emotion.
As life imitates,
so do we as well.
hung by our own hugr.
The balance of id
of the out and in.
skin showing, shying
what our hearts express
not. A true x-ray
one's skin will shine on.
Old canvas speaks out,
feel stories unfold.
fortune and forfeit
here both will be told.
both ink and metal
play the placid song.
Our hearts shall beat on
for we wear them on
body and bodice.
Are we done? No more?
Not yet, for you see,
Our tale is for thee...
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