These Hands

These hands have Built, These hands have Destroyed,

Ever since I was young, since I was a boy.

These hands have created, these have thrilled.

These hands have forsaken, these hands have killed.

Broken, Bleeding , Battered, and Bruised

These hands have played out years of abuse.

These hands have burned bridges, these hands have raised roofs,

They have built my Kingdom, they have tightened my noose.

These hands have loved, these hands have hated.

Many pleased, more jaded

The afterglow faded of Glory once known,

Now nothing, but memories, regrets, and broken bones.

And with this, I know, I am never alone,

And at the same time, I am never at home.

These hands, once proving me brave,

Now, slowly and painfully, dig my own grave.

And when I am defeated, and I meet my end,

I will die poor, having only these hands.