Hands...

There are times i just want you to know the truth,
yet i'm afraid of hurting you,
and there times i lied to you,
yet you believed what i said,
telling you the truth is like stabbing you from the front,
and telling a lie is like stabbing you from the back,
no matter how i tried to choose,
I still end up hurting you,
which is something i could never had done,
with my own bare hand,
which was given to me,
to embraced you when you are cold,
and to hold you hands tight so you will never slip away from me,
yet this hand,
did what it didn't wanna do,
and no matter how hard it try to resist,
there's nothing could be done,
you are hurt,
by this very hand of mine,
leading to the sounds of your shattering heart,
and here i am,
right here,
again with this hand,
the hand that shatters your heart,
trying to mend it,
even though all pieces of your shatter heart could be placed again,
back into one piece,
still the perfect heart which i longed for,
now just seems to be imperfect,
destroyed by my own hand,
this very hand of mine