The Man with the Diamond Strip Tattoo

 A line of ink, a sharp-edged shard, runs down his skin, a prismed guard. Four points of black, a geometric streak, that makes the bravest pulses weak. He walks with shadows, quiet and deep, with secrets that a diamond keeps. He moves through crowds like a ghost in the light, a master of hiding in plain, open sight. He wears the gray of the common man. But the ink betrays a different plan. He wants to vanish, to be just a face, yet marks his soul with a permanent trace. You fear the man with the charcoal stripe, the jagged edge of a different type. But watch him carry the youngest child, or stand by your side when the world goes wild. The diamond is hard, yes—unyielding and cold, but its loyalty shines like a story of old. It isn't a warning of what he might do, but a fence for the family he’s tethered to. He separates himself to keep them whole, a jagged line for a steady soul. Odd? Perhaps. A bit strange to the eye, like a sudden crack in a summer sky. But the man with the diamond strip on his skin, is the safest harbor you’ll ever be in.