The Tattoo
The Tattoo
Pointing at my rear neck, they said
There is dirt on your body.
For it was on my back,
I couldn't see it.
I, ashamed of myself, tried
To wash the dirt away, but in vain.
I was forced to think that,
It was a tattoo on my body.
The tattoo made on me,
Long before my birth.
Then, the unseen tattoo was seen
As a part of me.
Later, books told me that
The unseen tattoo never existed.
The dirt they saw on my body
Was an illusion by the dirt on their glasses.
They wore glasses whenever they saw me,
Assuming that I can't be seen as myself without it.
I felt sorry for them at last,
For they couldn't buy a new clear glass.
-Arjun R
Pointing at my rear neck, they said
There is dirt on your body.
For it was on my back,
I couldn't see it.
I, ashamed of myself, tried
To wash the dirt away, but in vain.
I was forced to think that,
It was a tattoo on my body.
The tattoo made on me,
Long before my birth.
Then, the unseen tattoo was seen
As a part of me.
Later, books told me that
The unseen tattoo never existed.
The dirt they saw on my body
Was an illusion by the dirt on their glasses.
They wore glasses whenever they saw me,
Assuming that I can't be seen as myself without it.
I felt sorry for them at last,
For they couldn't buy a new clear glass.
-Arjun R
This one intimidate the conceited mind of some.
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