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 H   A   N   N   A   H   M   A   R   Y   L   I    V    E   A   R   T  I   S   T


Nerves Twitch,

And hands change,

Spasms run down where the twitch was made,

Giving life where there wasn't before,

Uncontrollable , unrecognizable, 

From what he saw,

But reacting and acting it out all the same,

With a twitch at the back that tells him hes to blame,

For the movements which he makes, 

That explode from a place,

Which he now cannot find,

Disappeared into time,

But Repeat and Repeat,

And never rest or complete,

Any scene which he thinks he if he could rethink,

That he would emerge and take a place in this world,

Not his hands or his arms, 

But his mind, body and soul.