literature

Hands

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eyesandearbuds's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

My hands are too young.
Like a child's.
I hate them.
Reminders of
How much I have to go,
How much I have to see,
How much I have to learn.
Always at the ends of my wrists
Writing,
Typing,
Drawing,
Reminding me that my work is immature,
That I am immature.
I have so much to live through,
So much to do.
I'm not ready to be great,
Too naïve to understand.
I'm like a child.
My mind is too young.
...
© 2012 - 2024 eyesandearbuds
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