Poem: My Hands

I cannot see it.

Where did it go?

The village that I prepared is slowly going away.

The people I can no longer hear cheer.

I am lost and my dream are no more.

Is this what happens when a dream is not achieved?

Will it every be achieve?

My blood is on my hands, and I am afraid to get it off.

They need to be clean so how do I wash them?

Will they stay bloody forever?

I guess so.