My skin tells a tale, no shame, no regret/
Ink etched in darkness, paths firmly set/
Each mark a whisper, Occult and profound/
Symbols of magic, where shadows abound/
The inverted cross, a forearm's creed/
A testament to journey, to spirit and need/
Commanding respect, not of gangster lore/
But ancient rites, that my soul explores/
A clean life I walk, sober, legit/
No chains of vice, no shame to admit/
Perhaps I'm one of a few, rare in my kind/
Tattoos of the night, with a disciplined mind/
Celebrity or not, it's not what I claim/
But through the ink flows my spiritual flame/
Proud of my canvas, a map of my quest/
My tattoos are my armor, my silent confess/