These Hands

Another day, another dollar,

another paper, another favor,

Each day things come, two-by-two,

Each day things go, but who are you?

A simple thought crosses my head,

What will i do when I get out of bed,

I look to my hands, I look to my feet,

...These hands look scary to me.

What can I build with them?

What can I create with them?

What can I say with them?

These hands are an expression of me.

But just these hands won't bring me peace,

I don't know what I can accomplish with them,

These hands- they have potential,

But it is potential I cannot see.