Upon the canvas of my skin, the needle dances,
Etching stories of my life in intricate glances.
Colors blend and lines intertwine,
Each tattoo a chapter, a moment in time.

The first mark, a symbol of strength untold,
A phoenix rising, in flames and gold.
It whispers of battles, of fires survived,
Of resilience kindled, and spirits revived.

Another piece, a delicate rose,
In hues of red, its petals compose.
It speaks of love, of passions deep,
Of nights remembered, and secrets we keep.

My skin, a gallery of tales so dear,
Each tattoo a memory, a joy, a tear.
They tell my story, they bear my soul,
In ink and art, I am whole.