My Hands

Every single line,
A different aspect of my life.
Each faded scar
A small pain endured.

Such elaborate connections
Broken by tiny indifference's.
How can such fragile things
Do so much for me?

Lifting, opening, bending,
The lines move forming
Different paths,
Writing, turning, flipping

Such elaborate fragile
THings yet they do so much
THey tell me life they
Help me live.

They help do everyday things
I can never live
Without them.
Hands never breaking.