I looked at everyone's hands
Memorizing every line in the stands
Every crease was poised and ready
The way the steady
Took a sharp turn
Everyone's are different
They are small
In the back hall
But it makes them who they are
It gives them identity
I started to wonder who I was
Soon looking down at my shaking hands,
Tired from the things they had gone through
I took every crevice
Every mark
And turned it into something more
I'm beginning to be who I am
Showing all my imperfections
I'm showing the world my hands
My finger prints
It's a shame that some memorize
Something so admirable
Then burn it
Taking away everything that made them who they are
Such beautiful art work, so small
None of the world sees it
Until a big picture is taken
And placed in all the stores
Show the world your hands
Show them who you are.
