Staring in horror,
at her hands;
shock,
spread across her face.
A dull ache,
echoing in her knuckles and veins;
disbelief,
resonating in her nails and palms.
Incomprehensible,
unjustifiable.
What has she become?
Everything she hates,
everything she despises.
Staring in horror,
at her hands;
shock,
spread across her face.
Treacherous,
malicious hands.
Shaking now,
out of control;
no longer hers,
belongs to someone else.
Eyes cast,
to the ground,
as her hands work;
horror, horror, horror.
Everything she hates,
everything she despises.
Staring in horror,
at her hands;
shock,
spread across her face.
Repulsion,
bile,
rising in her throat;
her hands quiver,
trying to regain control.
How could these hands;
hands that could sculpt a thousand castles,
a million angels...
how could they?
Treachery,
repulsion.
Staring in horror,
at her hands;
shock,
spread across her face.
Trembling,
looking upon her work;
her latest masterpiece,
a work of art;
moulded pottery,
smushed clay.
Vibrant reds,
sickening colours;
his face,
her talent.
Staring in horror,
at her hands;
shock,
spread across her face;
blood,
spreading across his.
Author notes
I'm not sure where I was going with this.
I think I was highlighting female inflicted on male domestic abuse as well as something along the lines of beauty and passion isn't always positive.
Other than that; I'm not sure.
I'm thinking this probably isn't what you were looking for.
A contest entry
- Our Hands by kareneisenlord.
1750 points, ended November 13, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wow, this is a very intense write; and it displays so well how our hands can be used as instruments of destruction and to protect ourselves. The vividness with which you portray the psychological horror of one after performing an act of killing another human being, (even in self-preservation,) is stunning. You portray the other side of our hands so well; the dark, yet necessary side ~ for our own survival. Very impactful writing!
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