“Body art” some call it,
“A statement of
one’s inner self.”
I get that
Even though it’s
not for me.
When pressed or
teased
To bow to pressure
I just shirk and
shake my head
Politely
indicating, “let it be.”
Often the result
of pressures
Spurred on by
misguided youth.
Clouded judgement
fostering regret
In later days.
Morphed to vague
obscurity
If one must know
the truth as
You squint your
eyes
And turn your head
sideways. So,
Think a little,
Think a lot,
“What tattoo
should I get?”
Then, go ahead
with head held high
And live with it
without regret.
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