A Sonnet of Tattoos

roots and branches upon my skin 
drilled down to look like a tree 
artistically crafted painfully thin 
pictures of my life for me 

winter is the season on tattoos 
needles are busier than ever 
carving the pictures aright to renew 
new creations ready to remember

a passing fad, unauthentically new
Sun-drenched fading over time 
What is the permanence or truth 
elusive to you, simply just mine

tomorrow yes tomorrow begrudgingly inviting 
sun rising dawn breaking towards some new road 
the sketch drawn showing pain and ecstasy uniting 
images and words lightening a heavy load

One day it will be healed and I will leave 
Heart not in my chest, now worn only on my sleeve.