Who engraved into you,
the idea that your hands were only made to work,
and love was something meant for someone else.
Who convinced you that your worth was found in the way you fixed what they broke.
Because you confess to me that your chest is comfortably numb
and you can take it...
But I don't want you to take any more.
Your strength is so beautiful,
with its gentleness
you keep me safe.
I want you to cry about the birds leaving and smile at her return.
Dance in the storm with me and tell me about your dreams.
Run further then you were aloud and yell at the clouds for hiding the sun.
My world would crash without those hands.
Some things can stay broken,
but not your wonderful soul.