What are men supposed to be
I feel my life has helped form me
The skin of my body the open pages
of my biography
Where do the young look to change
To get their identity
Soft skin
lost on the earth
Each day and each string of conversations
forming words, lines on their faces
Coloring their little world's with popular paint
fantasizing about tattoos
Oh what are men supposed to become
The ink of their actions
The food of rumor
The skin we wear hiding much
But exposing a lot
Like some portrait moving along the streets
transforming into a masterpiece
and over the years gaining and losing color
But the symbolism is priceless
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