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Jan 2022
I stabbed myself with scissors
then I found it hard to stand.
I only hope ripped sinews aren't familiar
in your Hand.

A gentle child of sunlight
losing footprints in the sand,
somewhere on a map, you form a compass
of your Hand.

Hear a universe expanding
without heaven's killing brand.
Fusion of the stars comes bold and tragic
from your Hand.

Metal falls on concrete walls.
You hope that they withstand.
Soft and aching, something burned by fire,
like your Hand.

Sunset skies and flaming eyes
attempt their reprimand.
Desperate for life, you grasp to end it
by your Hand.

Falling down with airplane trails,
surviving where you land.
Digging in the snow, perhaps the frost will
save your Hand.

Thinking of it's suffering
and hate it should demand.
You feel it when you see it, still you cannot
lose your Hand.

When I feel your fingers it's like
lightning's reaching strands.
Are memories like thunder when I reach to
touch your Hand?

I wouldn't know the answer
and my love has come unplanned.
So hold my skin like something lost and found
upon your Hand.

And finally, you find me,
say you hope I'll understand
that when your world collapses, it's just nice to
have a Hand.
Written by
Cassandra  22/F/Canada
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