The Hand That Tells Keeping It Justice For Me

~The Hand That Tells, Keeping it Justice For Me~ The Ponder of her majesty, Is King to the heir's trophy, And what whould it Look like, In Brass and steel? But the Mountains, the sand, trees, Water, We Need no Reminder Though, Except just by looking at it, In a picture, except what's in Our heads'? Where and when the hand draws or writes, Is that stutter too stuttery? To see an idea, to speek of it, Now tha's really giving back, And to grasp of ones inner-self, to Get it Out, Off Their chest, Nothing could ever look more beautiful, Written down to foretold somewhere, Maybe it was found, but, Only after it was put there, And by Which Hand.