Hands
Slime covers esily
It’s engulfing, digesting
Like an acid dissolving with a noticeable hiss
Diffusing into the brain
And just not leaving, Never leaving
It spreads from the handprint
It dampens the cloth and drips
I shuffle
The apology reaches my ears after
But the smirk that is thrown churns my stomach
I have an urge too,
To let me throw my insides
On a cycle above 60 degrees
Let me ruin myself
Make me
Not even a chance to say no before
And now I’m just tired
It follows constantly
The colour of the shirt, the skin
Hands, hands, hands, hands
Tall, too tall
I should be grateful they didn’t.
Shouldn’t I?
I now leave a trail to follow
tainting everything, or is it tint?
The urge keeps growing
Unfortunately I’m not the only one
I just hate hands, I think
Copyright © Lina Al-Hakim | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment