Fingers or Fakers?

These hands are not my own.

The take away fom me.

With these shaking hands I have not grown.

I am supposed to be a healer, cutting free.

A surgeon's scalpel can not be so different from a pencil.

I shake too much to be of use.

So here I am, still  stuck  inside my stencil.

Hoping I get a chance to call a truce.

 

 

 

 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741