Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
They say that when you grow up, The world will be in your hands. Yet, small phalanges cannot affect such diversity, Correct? The thought is comforting, However, disagreement tugs me. This simple body part Functions in ways that could Destroy or **** Fingers dance upon Passionate melodies Or provide Soothing caresses Assuring you that you are in peace. But some are stained crimson With marks of sin. Callused, rough, and Ignorant about a Tender touch. Nimble and agile, they create Illusions the human eye Cannot follow, Letting them have freedom to Manipulate and control Weak minds. Yet they also spring delight in Children's eyes. Their imagination beholds Tales of magic and fairytales with each Flick of the wrist. When you're in a void, Consumed by your thoughts, just Weeping, Regretting, Loathing, Aching, Doesn't a spark light a Fire of desperate hope For a savior to pull you out? Unpredictable movements of doing the Wrong things for the right reasons, Or vice-versa, Who can you really trust? Unpredictable movements of doing the Wrong things for the right reasons, Or vice-versa, Who can you really trust? Human hands hold frail things with Care or recklessness. Human hands  share Fear or love. Human hands display Favor or hatred. Take my two cents and tread carefully. The globe is but fragile glass Entrusted in your hands.
0
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Human Hands
They say that when you grow up, The world will be in your hands. Yet, small phalanges cannot affect such diversity, Correct? The thought is comforting, However, disagreement tugs me. This simple body part Functions in ways that could Destroy or **** Fingers dance upon Passionate melodies Or provide Soothing caresses Assuring you that you are in peace. But some are stained crimson With marks of sin. Callused, rough, and Ignorant about a Tender touch. Nimble and agile, they create Illusions the human eye Cannot follow, Letting them have freedom to Manipulate and control Weak minds. Yet they also spring delight in Children's eyes. Their imagination beholds Tales of magic and fairytales with each Flick of the wrist. When you're in a void, Consumed by your thoughts, just Weeping, Regretting, Loathing, Aching, Doesn't a spark light a Fire of desperate hope For a savior to pull you out? Unpredictable movements of doing the Wrong things for the right reasons, Or vice-versa, Who can you really trust? Unpredictable movements of doing the Wrong things for the right reasons, Or vice-versa, Who can you really trust? Human hands hold frail things with Care or recklessness. Human hands  share Fear or love. Human hands display Favor or hatred. Take my two cents and tread carefully. The globe is but fragile glass Entrusted in your hands.
Dead_Account
Written by
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem