Words from a Tortured Soul's World
"Hands"

You once reached for my young hand
My heart was bleeding on the floor
You held my head and let me cry
And gave your heart without a word.

My hand reached for yours this time
And felt the comfort of your touch
Your hands were always warm and firm
And offered me so much.

Years passed on and still you reached
But my aging hands were far too full
Was your intent so honorable?
Was my denial cruel?

So you reached out for another hand
And that hand gladly took yours in
And wrapped her fingers round you tight
Holding you in lies and sin.

Now all these hands are parted
And not one reaches out for me
Hands that have no hands to hold
Are lonelier than free.