I see different routes on my palms

Each approaching to catch it’s way to a certain destination

Each with a role, a meaning and a reason

Each with a realm

That makes my palms sweat a bit

On my hands

I once sealed a deal I’ve never withnessed before

These hands peel

With a crime they’ve never committed before

Why my hands? Not with my hands!

But I know my hands attract danger

Which I hope won’t lead to anger

When I look at my hands my mind reaches my forefathers

Oh my magical hands!

They throw the sound of drums in my sleep

While I press my hands together in my deep sleep

So many bands I hear but can’t pick up even one as I wake up

In fact their sound gives my hands a certain type of vibration

That I feel the urge to clap more than once

Or dance

I only feel them when I look at the palm of my hands

I may sound insane

But now I will keep my hands folded so no one will see