Tattoos all hold a hidden story,
Such a shame this one holds little glory.
There was once a boy filled with laughter and joy,
Now all his mind wants to do is destroy.
The cuts and scars that line his thighs,
Are only one of the reasons why at night he cries.
He holds a blade, a needle, to his wrists,
And watches the ink spill as he slits and slits and slits.
He once had the whole world at his feet,
Now the only feeling he knows is defeat.
This is a story that can only end one way,
Yet still, he carries on each day.
And although the tattoos fade, but won’t disappear,
He’s learned to smile from ear to ear.
A genuine smile filled with love, life and joy,
This is the story of a recovering boy.
And although at night he still feels lost,
He now knows the final price and the deadly cost.
That in taking one’s life may offer relief,
But to those around you, it only gives great grief.
And now he lives a happy life improving on and on,
As he now learns not to play as the Devil’s pawn.
This is the story of a boy who turned his life around,
And discovered even in the darkest hour that light can be found.
So even if his tattoos may be seen as gory,
They are his battle wounds and they tell his story.
(three months clean)