My Hands Poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya

My hands are better than yours
Mine are observable
Mine are artistic
Mine are creative
Mine are romantic
Mine are magical
Mine are innocent

They can build an art and write a poem
They can create and draw
They can touch and romance
They can
Mine are not just hands

Yours are worse than mine
Yours are not observable
Yours are useless
Yours are decretive
Yours are painful
Yours are amazing
Yours are full of blood
Yours don't resemble mine
Yours are useless like idiot
Your are dis-creative like cowardice
Yours a painful they kill
Yours when they touch it's itchy
Yours are like the ones of giant
Yours are not meant to be hands