Unbound

Publication date: February 6

They say every mark tells a story,
But I’ve learned to read.
What hides in the spaces they cover,
Not what the colors concede.

Who owns your body?
Your soul or the scene?
Is this your story,
or someone’s routine?
Ink doesn’t free you,
it hides the pain.
truth on bare skin—
that’s how I remain.

I’ve seen hearts engraved into silence,
names lost in the sand.
But my skin kept whispering softly:
“Not by another hand.”

Who owns your body?
Your soul or the trend?
You follow the line,
but where does it end?
I chose the silence—
no color, no chain.
Inkless and breathing,
still whole in the rain.

Some chase pain in search of a meaning,
some need to reveal a sign.
They are truly still breathing—
towards life
but I just wanted to feel.

I don’t judge the colors they carry,
but I question who gave them the brush.
And if your body’s a temple—
why carve it to keep someone’s hush?

No ink on my skin, but stories I hold—
unwritten, unbroken, brave and untold.
A whisper of freedom, soft and unseen,
I walk through the world…
inkless, and clean.