I’m A Piece of Art.
By: Clarissa Garcia
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Listen up, I was highly famous in the late 70’s, 80’s, and even early 90’s. I know what you think of me… I’m a tramp, whore or other derogatory sexually promiscuous term. I’ve heard it all already… why there? That’s trashy… well I’m sorry I’m not on your biceps, thigh, or chest, but I just prefer being on your lower back. I’m art get over it. So please stop judging me with your dunderhead remarks. People love me. Why? Because I’m part of their body with a special meaning. People hate me. Why? Because they see everyone criticizing. People judge me. Why..? I end up right on them. I’m creative and I get to you. I make your mind think of all these conclusions like a never ending equation still trying to find its solution. When people see me, I don’t hide. I rather be shown. Unlike a tattoo on your thigh, trying to cover all that pain that you went through. With them pants and long skirts trying to attack you. Nice biceps, but why you wearing a long sleeve, try taking some pride and show them what your worth for. Stand out for yourself and raise that chest up stop wearing turtlenecks and show them what you’re made of. It doesn’t even matter what you think. You know why? Cause I’m famous. I am much known in any tattoo shop you walk in. In every tattoo book you look at, at every magazine you take a peek at. I’m everywhere. No I’m not boring, I’m more outgoing, and I like to show off. No I don’t speak but I see when you’re walking behind me, staring at me. Yes I see you lurking but that’s okay because I’m art. An art has a special meaning.
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