Dream of hands

It's a puzzle. That I've never seen the front of. It's a puzzle. That's a mystery to all but one. It's a puzzle. That is much bigger than me. I look at the other pieces, Connected. Sitting snugly within Their own places. And then I see the hooks. The hooks that I have screwed into my own hands. They hurt. But they're the only way To stay. To connect. How I wish I could unscrew the hooks, And fall to the floor, To be kicked under the cabinet. But I'm afraid. That if I let go, The pieces around me will let go. That if I let go, There will be a rippling effect. That will darken my corner of the puzzle And those around me will no longer fit snugly into their place. The hooks hurt my hands. They always have my attention. Pulling. Bleeding. But they'll stay screwed in, Holding on to my place. My place in the puzzle.