Crazy Lady On The Bus
I wrote this poem August 28th, 2012. Here it is. It's called Lady On The Bus.
Just leaving school, Tri-C East. On the 94 3:16pm.
I saw a lady on the bus covered in tattoos from face to feet.
She has one under her "Left Eye," up and down her arms and from her ankles to her thighs.
On wrists and fingers, on her shoulders and her back.
And I'm certain she has the unmentionable areas tatted up as well.
At first glance, I honestly thought to myself, "She must be a rebel."
Heart broken, broken home, maybe a runaway or drug abuser.
Perhaps a victim of domestic abuse or child molestation.
She's probably extremely angry on the inside which is why she went through the painful process of getting tattoos on her outsides.
After sitting down I actually looked at this lady.
Her face and skin are beautiful. She has beautiful features, very feminine and soft.
She's observant even with her earphones in because she saw a man enter the bus with that "I want to sit but I'm nervous about sitting, so I'll stand" look on his face.
And she politely moved over one seat so he could sit down.
Courteous.
Her eyes are easy and her hair is streaked dark brown and blond.
She rocks a black bandanna and gives off a Robyn/Rihanna vibe.
As I stare at her tattoos, a free view as she rests her head on her folded arms upheld by a denim backpack, I try to decipher the codes of randomness inked in no particular pattern to me.
I see various fonts, color phrases and designs.
In my eyes it looks like unorganized clutter.
It makes no sense to me.
I don't understand.
I try to make out the cursive on her left eye, but I can't.
I'm too far back to see it clearly.
With about an inch or two from her left eye to her left ear, I see a design crawling up from her neck.
What is it?
I wonder...
Why does she have many tattoos?
How many does she have?
What do they all mean?
Such a pretty face should not be vandalized, tainted nor intentionally blemished.
Just my thoughts.
From a judgmental standpoint, I can say; she's foolish, she'll never be successful, she lacks self respect, self esteem and self control.
Who in his or her right mind would cover herself with a collage of tattoos?
Her future is over before it started!
A facial tattoo?
That's the ultimate of ultimate No-No's, especially for a woman.
After over analyzing the speck in my sister's eye, the plank in mine started to ache.
I began to realize that just as much as she's tatted on the outside, I'm tatted on my invisible insides.
If I had a tattoo for every time I was foolish, lacked self control, self esteem and self respect, I'd be covered, saturated, colored in with ink.
Even my eyeballs and fingernails would be submerged in tattoo ink.
If I exposed all of my faults I'd be neck to ankle at least.
Take two seconds and let that digest in your mind.
I would be the lady on the bus that everyone stared at and judged.
But because my self-inflicted pains are internal, that's not the case...
Just leaving school, Tri-C East. On the 94 3:16pm.
I saw a lady on the bus covered in tattoos from face to feet.
She has one under her "Left Eye," up and down her arms and from her ankles to her thighs.
On wrists and fingers, on her shoulders and her back.
And I'm certain she has the unmentionable areas tatted up as well.
At first glance, I honestly thought to myself, "She must be a rebel."
Heart broken, broken home, maybe a runaway or drug abuser.
Perhaps a victim of domestic abuse or child molestation.
She's probably extremely angry on the inside which is why she went through the painful process of getting tattoos on her outsides.
After sitting down I actually looked at this lady.
Her face and skin are beautiful. She has beautiful features, very feminine and soft.
She's observant even with her earphones in because she saw a man enter the bus with that "I want to sit but I'm nervous about sitting, so I'll stand" look on his face.
And she politely moved over one seat so he could sit down.
Courteous.
Her eyes are easy and her hair is streaked dark brown and blond.
She rocks a black bandanna and gives off a Robyn/Rihanna vibe.
As I stare at her tattoos, a free view as she rests her head on her folded arms upheld by a denim backpack, I try to decipher the codes of randomness inked in no particular pattern to me.
I see various fonts, color phrases and designs.
In my eyes it looks like unorganized clutter.
It makes no sense to me.
I don't understand.
I try to make out the cursive on her left eye, but I can't.
I'm too far back to see it clearly.
With about an inch or two from her left eye to her left ear, I see a design crawling up from her neck.
What is it?
I wonder...
Why does she have many tattoos?
How many does she have?
What do they all mean?
Such a pretty face should not be vandalized, tainted nor intentionally blemished.
Just my thoughts.
From a judgmental standpoint, I can say; she's foolish, she'll never be successful, she lacks self respect, self esteem and self control.
Who in his or her right mind would cover herself with a collage of tattoos?
Her future is over before it started!
A facial tattoo?
That's the ultimate of ultimate No-No's, especially for a woman.
After over analyzing the speck in my sister's eye, the plank in mine started to ache.
I began to realize that just as much as she's tatted on the outside, I'm tatted on my invisible insides.
If I had a tattoo for every time I was foolish, lacked self control, self esteem and self respect, I'd be covered, saturated, colored in with ink.
Even my eyeballs and fingernails would be submerged in tattoo ink.
If I exposed all of my faults I'd be neck to ankle at least.
Take two seconds and let that digest in your mind.
I would be the lady on the bus that everyone stared at and judged.
But because my self-inflicted pains are internal, that's not the case...
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