stitch.

why, oh why do we have to die for what we believe in..
why can't we just live in what we hold dear.
why must you kill for what you believe in..
destroy me out of fear that i'm different from you..

countless people have died for what they believe in, when that shouldn't have been the case in the first place.

why does it bother you that i wrap my head, or bear a crucifix.

to you these are just stains for which i should be ashamed, but who are you to tell me what of my tattoos.
more than stains, the ink on me is synonymous with blood within me. with no shame, i endured the pain to shadow on the outside what's in my veins just so i could be closer to what i believe in. you see a mess, but i see transcendence the likes of which your hateful stitches can't sew shut or hold back anymore..

why can't you see that this "stain" is a part of me, why am i ostracized for the perma-tears running still down from my eyes, why can't you just shut up and accept me, because your god knows i would accept you.

i'm no different from you, i'm still human, i have beliefs too, so who are you to tell me mine hold no truth

stains..

to you these are just stains.
for which i should be ashamed, but who are you to tell me what of my tattoos..