Ink Rebellion

In the silence, she finds her voice, Through the pain, her story unfolds, A canvas of skin, a tale of choice, As ink and blood, her narrative holds. With every line, a memory stays, A symbol of strength, in the darkest days, The chair, a throne, where she reigns supreme, Her body, a map, of the journey she's seen. The splatters on the wall, a reflection of her soul, A chaotic dance, of emotions, made whole, The black and red, a contrast to her inner light, A beacon of hope, in the darkest night. In this moment, she is free, A work of art, in progress, a story to be, A testament to her will, to rise above, A phoenix from the ashes, born of ink and love.