These Hands

My hands are weapons used to make war. My fingers are 10 instruments of passion fighting for the sake of love. These hands destroy what they build, give cure to that they've caused pain. My palms held the spirit of her bussom: in turn injured her soul. Lifted the pillars of society crushed the hopes of the inspired. My hands gave birth; holding the image of the new generations. These hands communicate in nonverbal tones and cues whose gestures suggest a meaning often confused. With these hands I write, beauty captured as literary pieces. A mastery of art; an illustration that mirrors the effects on life caused by these hands. My index inverted I point out the heavens signifying one love, creating peace with the additional two. Damn these hands for killing lives, damn these hands for destroying nations, damn these hands for hitting women. With these ten fingers I make war, but I'd rather use these hands to make love.