My Arms
My right arm is scratched and scarred,
My left is the much the same but rearranged,
Both my arms are lean, the muscles hard.
I can see my veins through the skin,
They show blue through their thin covering,
The blood in them is the same as my kin.
The hands on these arms are young and strong,
They hold on tight to things they can’t lose,
These hands can do no wrong.
My hands are callused, and hard,
They have seen a hard day’s work,
Oh you? They will not discard.
My hands and arms are both covered in angel spots,
They tell me I have many watching over me,
Someday I’ll join the dots.
But for now I am here,
Here in my fascinating life,
Maybe later we will all cheer.
We will cheer for humanity, life, and love,
Please don’t judge; it’s just a hope,
A hope that may never come true… but I still hope of.