In the quiet whispers of skin and soul,
The ink flows, a river of tales,
Each line a journey, each shade a memory,
Tattooed on the canvas of life.
Through the needleâs dance, we find our voice,
Stories etched in permanence,
A silent scream, a whispered hope,
Carved in the language of pain and beauty.
The colors blend, a symphony of hues,
Marking moments, immortalizing dreams,
A tapestry of who we are,
Written in the ink of time.
On our skin, we carry our past,
A gallery of triumphs and scars,
With each tattoo, a piece of our heart,
A testament to the lives we’ve lived.