My hands are my work horse.

My hands are my work horse.
They feed my my meals,
help me to stand,
bathe me when im dirty, and even when I am not.
My hands were made to touch.
I can touch people.
I can touch things.
I can touch myself,
for both purpose and pleasure.
I can touch a woman for the same.
Without touch, we would all be blind.
Even the blind would be blind.

Hands are wonderful things,

Hands are wonderful things,
they allow us to touch,
and pick things up.
They allow us to turn the pages of a book,
and enter another world.

Eating; Creating & Designing All Sorts Of Things

Eating; Creating & Designing All Sorts Of Things; Bathing;
Dressing Reading; Writing; Cooking; Transplanting Plants;
Touching; Feeling; Talking on the Phone; Typing On The Computer;
Lifting Myself Pushing Myself Around In A Wheelchair;
They Are My Lifeline Without Them I Couldn't; Wouldn't Want To Live;
I Pray Nothing Ever Harms My Hands; They Get Me Though Life.
They Keep Me Busy All Though The Day & Night; They Are My Legs So To Speak.
I Pray To God My Hands Stay Strong Forever To Keep Each Night Before I Go To Sleep.

Hatred used to rule my hands.

Hatred used to rule my hands.
They were overlords
to the destruction of my body,
those little hands.
Hatred still exists
within my hands,
but they are learning.
They are learning
about the body
they are attached to.
In middle of the night
they can see
the creative spirit
looking for a channel,
so instead of killing,
these hands create
by taking up a pencil
and being my portal.