What I saw in my blood drenched palm
Was enough to keep a psychopath calm
I stared in aw when I could not stand
To run away holding a dead mans hand
Its limb was torn at the start of his wrist
The hand deformed and clenched in a fist
It would not let go of its frantical grip
Even though I stuttered out my pain
I muttered fair curses and shuddered in vein
The blood slowly seizing to run from its veins
But the handhold it caught me in eternally stayed
And the pain that it left was as sharp as a blade
Now I tried to hide in darkness, I live life in the shade
With one hand behind my back though blood no longer sprays
I seldom talk to people and I'm still afraid to face
The long arms of the law, or any arms at all
But more importantly, hands. |