I stare at the million wrinkles on each hand
a respectable women once told a smaller me
this means I am a wise soul
but I didn’t feel very wise
when a million taunts and laughs at school
followed me around at recess
until one day
I careened off my green bike
and landed among the sharp little rocks
that bloodied these hands
as I felt the pain slide through
every line in my palms
I knew this was life
and that I would have to try again