My hands are so scarred
I often wonder
Will anyone want to hold them
They are always cold,
dry and patchy
Red and itchy
No one would love them
I sure don't
It just makes it worse
but all i do is wonder
Will I ever get to feel someone's hand in mine?
(and what will i do if i dont)
YOU ARE READING
Powems
PoetryThe collection of my innermost thoughts. Expressed in the most vivid imagery and vocabulary that I can muster. It is cathartic, and it is raw. You may interpret each piece as you please, not everything is black and white~
