What is it that makes the human hand so gentle, so innocent, yet hold such great power and evil to try to destroy the other hands? What is it that allows the human hand to carry two worlds, one that is good and one that is bad? They are open. They may curl slightly if you let it hang, but they are open. They are open to everything...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Open Hands

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cold deadening feeling that clutched my heart

 

 

 

When I saw the flash and somehow the bullet

 

 

 

Just flying, hovering in front of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then nothing.

 

 

 

No blood, no scream, no groan.

 

 

 

Just nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But then he began to fall, over and over again.

 

 

 

Could I catch him, hold him close,

 

 

 

And hope he was still breathing, still living?

 

 

 

God I would if I could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I couldn't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He fell flat on his face onto the muddy street,

 

 

 

Hands palm up to the sky as though asking,

 

 

 

Pleading even, for someone to let him cradle life once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me, me with the merciless look on my face,

 

 

 

Me with the blood on my fingers and clothes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's raining now, raining my victim's blood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me, the victim once upon a time.

 

 

 

Me, now cradling the gun still smoking in my hands.

 

 

 

Me, the one with the palms faced upwards now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me with the open hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note: This is also posted on my DeviantArt site if you wish to comment there instead. :) Link's in the profile.

is that like telling kids not to play with guns...or did you just kill someone? nice anyway :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

--not to nag, but have you posted that story on geocities?

is that like telling kids not to play with guns...or did you just kill someone? nice anyway :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

--not to nag, but have you posted that story on geocities?

Ah no lol. I can post it up later tomorrow after I get home from class though. :) Thanksgiving holidays hehe! It'll give me more time to format it and stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have never killed anyone, let alone held a gun in my hand. :P

i think i may understand it now, the narrator kills his friend for some reason, and then kills himself.

nice poem it makes you think about life and how precious it is its quite moving

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neanderslave

i think i may understand it now, the narrator kills his friend for some reason, and then kills himself.

Uh no lol! Read the description above and connect from there. :wink:

i really dont get it at all plz explain in simple terms its good but i dont no y its good?

Humans have hands that give them the ability to create good, yet bad as well. :wink:

so no hidden meaning then?

so no hidden meaning then?

I have never killed anyone, nor has anyone fired at me before. I didn't intend for it to have a hidden meaning. :P

Very nice.. I had goosebumps. I've written a few stories about killings.. I find them interesting to write about..

wicked i love it