HANDS. EYES. EARS.
Their empty palms wait a token,
Their tear-filled eyes bore,
They beg - in voice broken...
...
Tell me; why do they clench -
These ten fingers of yours,
Offended by the stench? Say it; why do they turn -
These twin eyes of yours,
Restless and full of scorn? Pray tell; why do they close -
These twi