March of the Tattoos
She's collecting tattoos at a rapid pace.
How many is to many, it's hard to say.
Sometimes I think they're just a distant sign.
From a clouded spirit, a distant cry.
Pigmented therapy for long-lost lullaby?
Maybe that line of sanity is breached.
When the ink spills onto the hands and face.
The two things that separate man from beast.
Pray the lid doesn't snap shut on our masterpiece.
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