Searching for something permanent I mark my skin.
Looking for a way to begin again,
a new walk of life, rebirth my soul,
allowing my heart to let go.
It’s permanence now lives on my skin,
constant reminder of where I’ve been.
It was not my… it is now my skin.
I’m staking a claim,
it’s my pain.
I won’t feign,
it’ll come again.
Like clockwork,
I won’t jerk,
or pull away,
deep I stay.
Deep in self, the pain and pleasure,
keeps my skin tougher than leather.
Tight, wrapped around my soul,
once bludgeoned, I need a little control.
Not gonna let go,
let go of my soul.
I’m bold, I was once quiet,
humble, during an internal riot.
Pray peace, let the pain cease,
if not forever then just this one crease…
in time.
I wanna live in that wrinkle.
The pain, I put on my skin,
depository for transcended sin.
My own, and that bestown on me.
The deepest of humility
is forgiveness; I don’t want less.
Holding on to the past won’t let me rest.
So I mark myself, branded for life,
manifestation of internal strife
transcended.
It’s ended.
Archie Underwood
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