Beginning or end
Where do I place them first
My hands a part of me
But seperate in this story

Beginning;
A secret reason
A want to keep the reason
Close to me
And nowhere to be seen

End;
Easy to talk about
But emotionally hard to deal with
Feelings
And thoughts
Flowing into everything around me
Turning them instead
Into these lines of poetry

Beginning or end
Where do I place them first
Hands broke and torn
Hands held ever so gently
Which to have you hear about first

Typically the beginning
Is where all things start
But let me start you
At the end instead

End;

I sit on you as I smile
Goof around
And laugh with you

But then a faltered gaze
Staring lower at where my hands rest
Near your chest

You don't look away

I look down
I frown
I ask you what
Already knowing the answer
You know I know too
So all you do
Is softly
Ever so gently
With all the care in the world
Take my hand with yours

You look back up at me
While holding it against yours
You hold my gaze
I falter
But I won't break

You ask me
"Why?"
The tone of your voice
The hurt
The care
In your gaze
Almost causing me to
B
  R
    E
      A
        K
But I don't
I won't

I know you saw that
All in the seconds
Where it unfolded
But I quickly recover
I breifly show you the other
Your gaze ever so gentle
So caring

I joke then
Break the serious with a stupid
Quip then

I can tell
You haven't let it go
But you let the jokes flow
And you don't ask me another
Question that leads into my soul

Beginning;

You brush past me
Hands in contact
Very briefly
I move on
I don't focus

Next day
Events that make me feel
Like my hands
Are ever so completely useless

These hands
Ever so worthless
These hands
Unable to execute a plan
To get me moving and out of here

I blame my hands
Even though there is no plan
For them to follow
And my brain cannot come up with one
Aswel as neither can my therapist
Or the universe

But these hands
Take no actions
For safety
For protection

I look at them
And they're useless
Seperated from me
But part of my body

I tell them to move
They do
But all the times it mattered
Not even a twitch
Just a tiny little itch
But no movement

Useless
Worthless
Stupid
Silly
*******
Hands

They have been of no actual use to me
I wish to harm them and seperate them
Away from my body

One
Two
Three
Four
One hundred
Or a thousand more

Hands now red
Stained
Bleeding
Dead

Not an entity
Entirely on their own
But now an entity
To me on my own

No care or thought in my brain
About anyone seeing or caring
Because they don't truly see
Or look at me

Beginning and end
Beginning to blend
You saw
You looked
And I almost broke
Right there
Infront of you
Spilled the secret beginning
That simply stays in my head
And haunts the background of my being
Enshrouded in a cloud
Of denial
And misbelieving