I loved the art to grow,
be it sheets, walls,
or that tattoo on the backbone,

It was nice and sweet,
like some bird chirping its tweet,
but it was dangerous too,
like lion out of his cage, hungry and rude,

The art you decide to play,
gives you a tune,
you color it and let it stay,
becoming a part of you,

As the ink dries,
sketches appear,
you become a new life,
with cobblestone roads more clear,

The art on your skin,
like that tattoo on the backbone,
helps you stand out quick,
or gives you the right to be alone,

Stay hidden in the crowd,
or choose not to blend,
the art is yours privately,
take time to comprehend,

See the meaning behind every tattoo,
know why you need it ingrained,
because once it shows up,
you won't be same,
it will define you in a way,
for the world to judge the naked,

To talk behind your back,
so give them the show,
of that tattoo on the backbone,
that voices your opinion,
quites the millenials,
roars your tiger,
and silences the naysayers,

Because you are special,
with ink blending over the coat,
be it red, black, brown, or gray,
the sketch on the skin actually stays forever,
like your modern soul's ancient blood oath.



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© Nilakshi Garg