My Hands

“My hands help me to speak aloud, and with my hands, I can too, speak in silence.”

   Nothing shows the scars of my life, like my hands. Sure, you could look into my eyes and decide just who I am, but nothing defines me best like, My hands.

   How I look, where I look, or even the way you look at me, all depend on the eyes, but if I close my eyes, my hands still swing by my sides. When I say hi, if I wave goodbye, or I salute you, you’ll know all that I’ve been through because of my hands.

   Whether I shake your hand, or it’s where they go when I stand; There’s just something about my hands that makes it obvious who I am.

   My hands tell a story of what I’ve done, and all I’ve been through, my hands shows the outcome. In my palms lie the consequences of my mistakes. My hands tell just Who I am: if I bite my nails, I am distracted. Or if I break my knuckles, I’m not easily intimidated. If I am quick to make a fist, you’ll see I have issues that are not yet resolved.

   My hands help me to speak aloud, and with my hands, I can too, speak in silence. My hands help me to see, and my hands make you judge me; Whether it’s through my skills or sadly because of the shade of my skin.

   My hands tell just whom I am: whether it’s through my posture or the jesters I use when I speak. If you’re rude to me, will my hands answer? If you offend me, what will my hands do?

   If I carry my hands around in my pocket, it speaks of my confidence, I may still be carrying my broken pass or it may be that there’s something that I haven’t yet recovered from.

   If you shake my left hand, you’ll probably discover all the things of which I’m not very proud.

   Excessive jewelry on my hand makes you judge me, so I like wrings, and my watch has a big dial, but does this really mean you know me this much? Ok, let’s see: Where do my hands go when I fret? Why do we shake hands after a bet? Why do they speak when I’m upset? And if you bother me, which of my pretty little fingers will you get?