There’s a story on my arm, i am forced to wear.
A story nobody can ever re- write.
Black ink stands firm fighting against my melanin it wants to be seen,
Waiting like an open canvas for life to pour out.

As a woman I always add a colored feather, that brightens my day
For i know that the Details will happen, they will unravel as I find the Goddess in me.
Can’t help but feel the wordless stories crawl up my arms
wrapping themselves around my neck, creating a necklace of thorns, slowly Suffocating.

Still breathing , how can i be living when my lungs can’t seem to trap air? 
I’ve got a devil on my shoulder, don’t need a friend on my back
I mean The angel is missing, is my father in heaven  testing me? I am changing my soul is being overshadowed by darkness, it’s too late! no one can help me now silhouette outlined in black.
Lilith is quoted  round my ankle, lucifer lingers on my hips.
My body is a black temple, my only place of worship.

It is my temple to create and my temple to destroy
A temple of lost souls, a temple of the unknown
Painted pictures, young and tender, yet unaffected by the pain.

There are stories on my body and stories of my lost soul , please help me find her , desperately need to find the doors inside the temple. People don’t bow down before the doors anymore, they’ve found comfort in pain some found peace in cocaine. Can I just find me, my stories , my soul, the key to my black temple.