My Hands Are Not Red
My hands are not red,
But they feel like they are.
My hands are not dirty or immoral,
But I think they are all the time.
My hands have not killed, nor raped,
But sometimes I think they have,
Sometimes I wash my hands.
I try and clean them the best I can.
But I still feel the redness on them,
Their dirtiness, the scoundrels.
I don't know what they did.
I don't know how.
But they did something, and it was no fault of mine.
But I am to blame.
My hands are red.
And you may not see it,
But I know you know it's there.
Lee Gelis's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (My Hands Are Not Red by Lee Gelis )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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