Large and unburdened these hands show my true weakness-- spread across silken sheets and the gentle touch will feel as if desert sands were wedged between the threading-- those threads do not breath as easy as these hands of mine do.
They look and feel as privileged as my ghostly appearance would lead the World to believe-- even watermelons harden in the sun, but these hands of mine are closer to being ballet dancers except they've never had to learn to dance.
They've never had to be successful and I've been led to believe failure was optional-- that with each attempt the World will give me a do-over.
Sometimes or maybe always people eventually run out of opportunity, and instead they are left with
...better luck next time.
Sometimes people didn't give up, but instead were never given another chance. We see where people or things end up, but that's not how they/it really got there.