poor are my hands

 Dear Reader,

I will only give you a poem

that is all today...

goodnight

poor are my hands, ugly and rude

they cry every now and then that they are a slave

sometimes they think they have a free will

and they rebel against this tyranny to break free

I watch them like as I was their fair dictator...

like the puppet master I do weird things with them

just to remind them of their destiny...

like I was the poor, ugly and rude person,

who cries every now and then that I am a slave

and sometimes think that I have a free will..

                                            King H. Ironson

(Photograph: Alexas_Fotos - Pixabay)