these hands <br />these so sore helping hands <br />and these eyes <br />seeing through all the black and white, <br />a monovision more incommon than not, <br />these hands like talons ripping as fast they can <br />fish <br />trapped inside <br />the barrel <br />as he cocks his wrist, <br />that tiny gap of silent air <br />and in an instant these fish know they're goners, <br />full of holes <br />that what this life of mine has been like... <br />a great tapestry to the biggest moths <br />and the kindest spiders <br />as well as the coldest eyes <br />and the softest hands <br />however these hands, <br />rough and dry <br />witnessed it all first hand <br />and then the other.<br /><br />David Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/helping-hands-4/
