They weigh me down
These hands of mine
As if filled with rocks
Made of sin and sand
And they stay heavy
At my side
And they become heavier
When I hold them up
I’m accustomed to their heft
And I know how to use them
In violence
And touches
But I fail at being soft
These hands too heavy
Too hurtful
Stained
And the only way I know
To make them lighter
Once more
Is to hold you in them
I grow weary of weights
But I only feel alive when I think I might die
And these hands are thrown
Before thought reaches them
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