I have fingerprints wrapped around every part of my body.
They travel from my hair,
to my face, to my legs.
Some of them are soft, like the tall grass from your childhood,
whizzing by you as you run.
Some of them have left angry, harsh craters on my skin.
Very few are like minuscule ants, barely leaving an impression.
Every print has a story, a history, a narrative.
Many of them are a firing-spiting battalion,
yelling jodies as they recount their purpose,
while others are a mere wish to an eyelash.
Every print is from a different soul,
different body, different mind.
They all are the same to me.
They are all the people who have touched my life,
whether they have beaten or grazed me.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 11:14 AM UTC
I have fingerprints wrapped around every part of my body.
They travel from my hair,
to my face, to my legs.
Some of them are soft, like the tall grass from your childhood,
whizzing by you as you run.
Some of them have left angry, harsh craters on my skin.
Very few are like minuscule ants, barely leaving an impression.
Every print has a story, a history, a narrative.
Many of them are a firing-spiting battalion,
yelling jodies as they recount their purpose,
while others are a mere wish to an eyelash.
Every print is from a different soul,
different body, different mind.
They all are the same to me.
They are all the people who have touched my life,
whether they have beaten or grazed me.