Touched.

Is it of a Hand that men die
Is it of a Hand that people die
Of all the things the World has

War will never end
It will only begin
From the hand.

What do you see in yours?
When I look upon thus hand

I see veins twisting through
Bones underneath that ruby blood
Those scars that just pass by.
Parting lines to form thy history

I find the truth
_of what I've missed.

Lies and Secrets swim through those veins
Pain runs though thy's deepest red blood
Courage travels from thy bone to bone
Joy to the Scars, to know the wounds have healed

Then every finger to show each tale.
Each parting line shows a Life

Is it of a Hand that men die
Is it of a Hand that people die
For every Hand has touched War.