My hands hurt

My hands hurt,

ache,

from holding on so long.

Please. Please

pry through these

stiff fingers

and take it.

I cannot give,

my grip it stays.

I’ve locked my hold so tight

that, though give be my desire,

I cannot crack this fist of mine;

it’s plastered in my palm,

etched in by my nails.

I cannot dig it out.

Please.  Please

take it.

I’m tired.

And my hands hurt.

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