my tattoos

you make up stories from the ink on my skin, assuming they end with only regret. with each dot, each millisecond of pain, I come into my own world inch by inch. I am a conglomeration of art, ideas, humanity, and it shows. I am a visual of my own personality, so you don't have to ask, although your assumptions may be quick and hard while my person is wary and soft. my ink is my choices. who I am one day may not be who I am the next, but I was still that person at one point. that will always be a part of me. and so will the ink that is burried beneath the quick surface of my skin.