Hands

She looked down at her hands

The knuckles were scarred from punching

The nails were short out of convenience and habit

The palms were raw from work

In the right light, her hands looked much older

Much older than seventeen

If a man's hand looked as hers did, they would be seen as symbols of power

But she was a year from being a woman

Beautiful hands are expected of a woman

They will have to model an engagement ring for her friends

They will have to hold a newborn for an ever-present camera

But hands also tells stories

How many times you have given into anger

How much you are willing to do to survive

How many times you have pushed yourself off a hard, unforgiving ground

She looked down at her hands and saw the story written

in the visible veins

in the dry,scratched palms

in the bitten down nails

She hoped someone would want to know her story one day

She hoped someone would feel the rough palms

and the scars

and the time long past

And not want to hold any other story