My Hands

My hands.
They are worn and rugged.
They have been torn and scraped and cut.

My hands.
They are full of scars, all over.
From nuckles to fingers to back to palm,
They are everywhere, not quiet and calm.

My hands.
They are blocky and square,
But they are still there.
They are rough and calloused,
But can be gentle.

My hands.
Gentle at touch,
But rough at first glance,
My hands, are full of character,
So give them a chance...