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