Poor skin
Once tattoo meant too much
Shaped a sign, not design
The master’s inked-needle
Climbed deep in skin…
The owner’s slogan:
“I am rebel, I am wild, even am crazy…”
No one said: “criminal.”
But did say:
Watch your yourself, no messing…
Not with me.”
Like drones as soldiers
Our tattoos are sissy…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem