Beneath the surface, tales unfold,
In lines of ink, a story told.
A canvas bare, once pure, now bold,
With whispers of the brave and old.

A dragon fierce, with wings spread wide,
Guards memories that never hide.
In every swirl, in every glide,
The battles fought, the tears we cried.

A rose in bloom, with thorns so sharp,
Reflects the heart, its every scar.
Each petal soft, each stem a mark,
Of love that’s near, and dreams afar.

Tattoos, they say, are just a phase,
But in the night, and through the days,
They tell a tale that never fades,
Of who we are, and what we’ve faced.