Hands

I put my hand on the doorknob,

I had to open this door to enter the outside world,

I gazed at my hand which out of fear was cold,

And thought of pouring out some warm words.

A hand has four fingers,

There's also a thumb,

In the shapes and sizes of fingers and thumb difference always lingers,

Yet they still live with harmony as one.

I wondered if the outside world would be like my hand,

Despite some people will be considered high and some would be low,

Equality would still flourish in the end,

But as soon as I opened the door I found myself frozen with loneliness and sorrow.

I realised that living with people who love and respect each other like fingers will always be a fantasy,

In reality people don't give each other a helping hand,

I wasn't born with the courage to speak my thoughts in this world which is nothing but messy,

Thus I rubbed my hands together to warm up myself and decided to pick up my pen.