The Hand

I walked along his hand, leaving a trail behind.

I started at his wrist, went across in a crescent.

There. I marked his life.

When I reached the edge of his palm, I decided to change direction and inscribe his head.

I’ll make him both creative and smart. Hop along.

There, I marked his mind too.

Then I treaded back to the middle, and decided to make his fate strong.

I showered him with love and luck, yes sir.

But I must carve it onto his thumbs too, just to be sure.

Go round and round and round and round to make sure he’s famous one day.

Round and round and round. I’m tired now.

So I’ll just rest on his thumb.

My eyes start to close,

But then I see myself being taken towards something shiny.

I’m on his thumb all right, but his hand is now on the ground, sir!

He killed himself, sir! He's dead!

But, but I had made his life long..

I had made his mind beautiful..

His head is his, says mine.

 I’m just the fucking hand.