tattoo removal - a poem

with my adrenaline being my incentive

I quickly grew more balls than I could possibly smuggle

snuck away when the warden was less attentive

I'm then able to remove my flaws with little struggle

in a state that could almost be told as manic

my frontal cortex was then quite effortlessly persuade

will-power means nothing compared to pure panic

hands of stable men are twice as shakey handling a blade

I didn't cry for it felt wrong to be emotive

other sensations pushing such sentiments underneath

aching ignored as it doesn't fair to my motive

holding back my bottom lip with the strength of my top teeth

fueled by the strength and the shame of a liar

I intend to dig as deep as the ink that is my sin

as long as I heard faint gossip of their failure

I could continue to scrub at the softness of my skin

water hitting linoleum as the backdrop

panic or reason drowned with the pollution of white noise

with more irrational grit then a single chop

I completed my task to shed my skin with little poise