I love it when
My hands are covered
In ink
Or dirt
Or paint.
When they have
Cuts and
Scrapes,
Leaking blood.
It means
I have done something,
I have used my hand
And my brain
And my life,
It means
I am useful
And that my hands
Can do
And create
Instead of
Hurt and
Break.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice
PoetryPoems meant to express things I can't always bring myself to say, emotions that run so deep in my veins, and thoughts that hang over my head. I hope you can enjoy this, or find something that makes you feel less alone at the very least. Many of thes...
