• My hands are stained with ink
    Uncleansed by any sink
    Reminding me of words I meant to say

    And this permanent reminder
    Of words never spoken kinder
    Has me begging to articulate those words I must convey

    But my hands are stained with black
    And all the confidence I lack
    Though I try to wash them clean of this display

    The words remain the same
    Declaring love I can't proclaim
    So I shut off all the sinks and bow my head in my shamed dismay