These Hands of Mine

(poems go here) My hands are tools They have dire meaning They create and break on a whim For that depends on the maker These hands of mine are mine to use With hopefully no conviction The mark they carry stay with me Until life benediction With a hope that I would be seen As I grow older I’m filled with worry On how my past has formed me From birth each person is like a blank piece of paper As time passes I write my story And pray for success that my future may bring That hope puts things in perspective And my actions create that path And with these hands of mine My life will shine as each of works will be recognized.