Whom Do These Old Hands Belong

I stare at these old hands, where is the timekeeper? Who can count my rings? Will they have to slice me? How can these ancient hands be attached to my wrists? Flipping them over I see that my pale skin is thinning Three prominent blue veins under the skin touch my bracelets Where is the time keeper? Why are the seconds so fast now? I stare at these old hands, wondering to whom these old hands belong.