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No more pictures they’re all gone
So no way to look at you
Just a name on my arm
But it’s only a tattoo

You know it’s hard when you fall
When there’s no one to catch you

I’ve fallen before and love was there
But now it’s only a tattoo

No more mail it’s been torn
So no more words to latch to

Just 5 letters on my arm: Maria
But damn, it’s only a tattoo

In jail with no resources no pens only pencils
I wish I could use the ink in my arm
But it’s only a tattoo

Confused how a little needle could
Leave a permanent scar

I saw the ink on the needle and flinched
Before it went through
The artist looked at me and laughed and said
“It’s only a tattoo”

Thought you would be on my arm forever
I bet that’s what you thought too

But whoever invented removals thought the same 4 words
It’s only a tattoo

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Mark

Mark is a writer incarcerated in California. He asks that his last name be withheld.