my ink
notice it
take a look
right there, in the middle
but a bit to the left
a tattoo heart
a distance under my ribs
count to ten
and rip it off
a tortured soul deceives without a hint
a permanent state for a liar
darker than the ink
a needle marks the place
branded symbolic lies
crafty shaped
pushed against a wall,
a strong pulse
behind a weak will
a distance under my ribs
tattooed on a heart
that skinny yarning
that selfish need
unable to speak the truth,
so coated for warmth
around a lie
I cannot speak the truth
I don't know how
it's just darker
then I lead it to be
it's quiet inside
more than I want it to be
lies start
between rib number eight
and rib number nine
listen to me,
listen carefully, please
just close your eyes
and listen to the slow heartbeats
between the fast lies