Hands

Poem by: Mischievous

Summary

Anti-Racism poem. I live in California, land of Liberals, so I always get stereotyped for being Conservative. Here is my poem to tell others that A) I'm not racist. In fact, I've noticed that I care so little about race, someone's race doesn't even register with me, and B) They need to stop stereotyping me.

Content

Submitted: May 07, 2013

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: May 07, 2013

A A A

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Hands, hands, hands. everyone has a pair. So simple and complex, are everyone’s hands. All look the same, at the end of your arm, on your wrist. All have five fingers, one of them a thumb. But it’s amazing what you can tell, about a person by their hands. Some are tough and tanned, and some are small and thin. Some have long fingers, elegant like a pianists. While other’s are short and stubby, made for sitting at a desk all day. My hands are long and bony, thin like an old woman’s. They have lots of little scars, and lots of little scratches, from climbing up trees and trails alike. They are the hands of a writer, who had too many thoughts, and too little time, to learn how to write properly. Because of this there has always been, a callus on my ring finger. They are the hands of a reader, with a slightly flattened thumb, from holding the page of a masterpiece, in it’s proper place. They are the hands of a violinist, the skin is thickened on the tips of the fingers on my left hand. They are the hands of a person. But the hands of only one, out of billions of hands who could have written this poem, I ask myself, “Why were mine to do the task? Why are some judged by color? Or looks? Or accent? Or language? Or interests? Or fashion? Or age? Or anything else so superficial? The world doesn’t need perfection. Perfection means all the same. The world needs every person. The world needs every flaw.”


© Copyright 2016 Mischievous. All rights reserved.

Hands Hands

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Houses:

Summary

Anti-Racism poem. I live in California, land of Liberals, so I always get stereotyped for being Conservative. Here is my poem to tell others that A) I'm not racist. In fact, I've noticed that I care so little about race, someone's race doesn't even register with me, and B) They need to stop stereotyping me.
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