In inked deceptions there comes reception of truth-less terms agreed, yet one forgets what’s meant from test in ink filled skin’s decrees!
Duplicity won’t set yea free nor allow thy words to be conceived as truthful sample that sets example of who is who in thee.
To speak of God in some facade that defiles thy body’s derma, displays charades in promise made and anchors flesh to something less beneath thy terrafirma.
In gifted life did one think twice or make the choice to roll the dice? In crap shoot throw did one not know who walks the earth both too and fro?
One might ask; why some take to tasks in inking traits of mind’s debates, can fork of tongue tell truth ’bout one to tell of greater story?
Thee given rights to life not owned when one day we’re all called back home ’twill fail to help to recognize a mirrored reflection from one’s own eyes!
Portraitures of souls who’ve served can’t reunite in ink’s absurd and words and phrase of bold charades won’t bring back times of glory days.
One might ask why skin needs mask and why some partake in inking traits, can fork of tongue tell truth ’bout one to offer story’s glory?
Ornamental lines of things define thy offered story told of life’s unfolds ‘n scribing tattered art so bold what’s God to see of glory’s told?
Skin’s canvas slate may not escape the blowout traits that illustrate thy cover ups obscuring loved of pin up’s face without a trace.
Leviticus nineteen twenty-eight explains the way to heaven’s gate and Corinthians six nineteen reframes who owns thy body’s glean!
Did Lord above give gift of love, yet you repaid in sleeved array’s in inked of pink who’d stop to think between the span of eyes that blinked?
Can one see God in such facades or do actions taken just forsaken thy terms in quest’s begets?
In deface of ink did one stop to think that beauty’s pink might run oblique of clues in views for who is who inside of you?
One might ask why skin needs mask and why some partake in inking traits, can fork of tongue tell truth ’bout one to offer story’s glory?
What story’s’ told in ink’s foretold from lines disgraced upon a face or loyal’s royals in use of coil in shades of black ‘n grey?
What’s story’s told of yea’s behold respecting body’s temple? What goods’ portrayed in needle’s pricks of arts depicts that’d add to story’s ample?
Who owns thy soul and feels the blows inflicting blemished pimples, aligning soul for what’s to know ’bout face that’s scathed with simple.
Cartoons portrays of yesterday’s ‘n child like ways of grand forays can’t help to mend the sins of men nor hide the mind in just pretends.
‘Tis under skin that artist’s sins inflict a needle’s ego, transfers perturbed in nouns and verbs in which they’ll own their ink filled words.
The art’s defense ’twill make no sense in dots as words in pretext, cus such things in mirror in view of rear can’t help to cure the reflex.
One might ask why skin needs mask and why some partake in inking traits, can fork of tongue tell truth ’bout one to offer story’s glory?
Pagan’s dragons shall pull their wagons with food of poisoned stews, and the medallions ’bout hellions on rides upon stallions will leave scars in black ‘n blue.
‘Twas ego’s rant of God forsaken that artist proclaims thy acts partaken, yet at end of trail these crimes assailed, shall bear as witness to who availed.
In imagined world of swirls and whirls and bunny girl’s perils, what good shall come from inking done in look of who’s gone feral.
Did Daddy leave thy child’s bereaved in void of life that trembled? As consequence that made no sense had cast one’s heart to limbo.
Decor’s designs inside one’s mind should be kept behind locked door, as rhyme-less wits that bite a bit aren’t meant for sights in sleeved half fits.
One might ask why skin needs mask and why some partake in inking traits, can fork of tongue tell truth ’bout one to offer story’s glory?
Put faith in cross not mindless toss in restless sleep that dwells in loss, as those who ride with devil’s pride shall come to know of reasons why.
Just look at ink obscuring pink and stop to think what others link from disrespect of gift of life to which yea own no legal rights.
The gift of life in body’s spice is not yea own nor final home, ’tis temple meant to house thy wits, embrace the Holy Spirit’s lift!
Thy parade of scathe in scared charades example face in other ways, displays portray a soul’s arrays of mind that’s lost its way!
Such art from start had meant to mark the soul’s depart from God’s own heart, yet fret not yea strayed to his dismay tomorrow brings a brand new day.
Repent from sin ’twill help my friend to redirect thy path again and head thy soul towards God’s one goal to recognize a face he’ll know, not fall from grace and Satan’s goal!