Hands, they said,
molded your body and mine,
formed the stars in the sky
and the ground beneath us...
Hands, harsh and hating,
broke a child
waiting to be molded
by loving hands.
Hands, sick and remote,
wander across innocent skin
leaving a trail
of grime and disdain...
Hands, disgusting and hurtful,
broke her in impossible ways...
Hands, bitter and cold,
tearing at skin
trying to rid the flaws in her soul
by creating them in her skin.
Hands, hurtful and shaking,
ripped at her soul and skin
making her worthy
of other's eyes...
Hands, sweet and loving,
caress her broken soul
and heal her wounds.
Hands, soft and forgiving,
hold her close and
soothe her aches
and mend her heart...
Hands, different and changing.
Hands broke her apart
and put her back together...
