Sometimes I wonder
What the lines
On my hands mean
They hide my past
And tell my future
They tell stories
Which I wouldn’t
Want to reveal
They tell of
Struggles and misfortunes
Which are yet to befall
And may be love and life
Which will be well lived
At times they just
Seem like random lines
Drawn on the whim of God
Squiggles, curves, crosses
Faint and sometimes dark
And yet they are meant
To tell a story
Which is uniquely mine