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Writer's pictureTattoo Magazine

(SPRING 2021) Graffiti Don'ts | Elizabeth Howlett

Updated: Jan 20, 2022

In the corner of the living room

there was a large leather chair.

The perfect spot for hiding.

Only a child could fit their tiny body

in between it and the wall.

Not even the cleverest of witches

or the hungriest lollipop-waving child-catchers

could spot me behind the castle walls I imagined it to be.


It no longer appears so large;

It’s actually become quite normal-looking.

But not too long ago, I was crouching behind it,

taking my finger nail

and etching my name into the leather.

I was a master carver,

tallying the days

I was held prisoner in the tower.


My parents never looked back there until last week,

too bad I used my real name.


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