people be saying:

“Defacing your temple of Lord.”
“Vandalizing your skin.”
“Marking up your body.”
“A mistake you’ll come to regret.”
“It's ugly, it’s stupid, it makes no sense.”

God gave me a mind, filled with light and color and ideas and beauty. And he gave me a body, plain and simple like a blank canvas asking to be colorized.
I stain my skin with ink because I think it is beautiful.
My body is covered with marks from a needle, not a knife. This is the way I choose to feel, think and share with the world. You ought to be glad that my way is not another.
And how could I regret painting my skin in a way that brings me such happiness?
You look at these lines and squiggles and all you see is dirt. Maybe to you, there is no rhyme or reason to the pictures that I so carefully choose, but every mark has its story. Maybe if you’d ask, I’d share them with you?
I color my flesh.
Have fun, have a voice,
Express my thoughts without using words.
A permanent reminder of what I stand for,
A protest of the things I do not.
This is my body and I do as I please.
Could it be you who is wrong
For reprimanding me from wanting the world to see
That I am not perfect,
But in imperfection, beauty can still be found?
Could it be you who needs to open your mind
And your heart to new ideas
So although you all treat my tattoos to be taboo
If I wish to paint my skin, that is what I will do.