hands graze windows

hands smear glass

greasy palms

ruin with their grasp,

burning calm

and icy rage,

hands of healing,

full of pain.

crushing beauty,

and slamming doors,

hands full of cruelty,

societys sores.

mothers and neighbors,

with gossiping mouths,

they have to know,

what I'm talking about.

Their pristine kid gloves

deal frightening blows,

for they are the arms,

of the hands called sorrow.