Ink is permanent.
Skin or paper,
No amount of sweat can erase it.
Every silky black smudge
Contributes to who you are.
As surely as newsprint stains your fingertips,
Ink is transformative.
I have written,
I have been written on,
And every drop has changed me.
My pen leaked the words I chose,
And I grew.
Over the years each streak, each stroke
Ate away at who I was,
And made me who I am.
I have seen it in others.
Ink is cathartic.
Emblazoning the page or themselves,
Ink has helped them to remember
Or forget.
And at its core,
Ink is the truth.
Nobody tattoos a lie.