Patchwork of a thousand dreams and the needle of one nightmare

Patchwork of a thousand dreams and the needle of one nightmare

On a beamingly bright summer’s day, whilst the children sat like Stone and did not play,
She heard a whisper say she should run away, into the dream, into the fire, into her heart’s desire,
The Mouse of truth emerged from the dark, its beady eyes full of thunder and spark,
“Remember, remember the twists and the turns the lights and the burns”
I wanted to turn up the bright and silence the dark, I wanted to tattoo, to stamp, to scar and to mark,
Pictures of pain of memories of the insane and the unholy marks of Cain,
The flower prince pricks the beautiful flowers onto the meadow of me,
My blood is ink, my skin is canvass, and this pain is causing me pure madness,
The persistence of memory should be an alarm, an alarm that keeps my body safe from harm,
To dare to chicken to tempt yourself more,
I see swans you see elephants so big and so large and cannot believe they would even charge!!
Modification or a massive Incarceration trapped and tangled with the art of me before,
A stigma of such stereotypes to some people a tapestry of visual dermatological delights,
Is this beautiful creation on my arm art, or is it self harm, a dare with the needle shaped like a dart.