Tattoo after “Slam, Dunk, & Hook”
The skin that I am in is my own,
It is something that I could never loan.
The bark on my bones, the shell on my back,
This drawing speaks for a voice I lack.
With pictures and art, the story comes alive,
of a tree that stands tall, with branches that thrive.
With ink alone I tell a tale,
of a tragedy that has become one to hail.
To a loved one that has passed
with initials “K.M.I.” to last,
on my right side is where it lays,
hanging sitting, it only sways.
The paper of my life, my way to console,
My body has never felt so whole.