Skin Canvas of Sins

<< >> My skin is a canvas, torn and stained.

A roadmap of heartache, a portrait of pain. Each mark is

a letter, each scar makes up the words. Tells the inked-up stories of the

one I love most. A burn from the irons, a cut from

the blade. A name on my arm from the choices I made.

The compass in my chest points to places I roam. But this flesh

tells the truth when my feet won't go home. I've fallen from glory,

I ain't no stranger what I've done. And I ain't no