Not OneI fear he'll come to me and ask me one day,Show me your hands, dear, and Id do as he says.Id push my hands forwards, with shoulders shrugged high,And my hands would start bleeding from the countless red lies.Id shutter each time a drop hits the ground,Each time a drop splashes onto his white shoes and white pants.He wouldnt get mad at me but hed solemnly say,"Go wash your hands, dear, and Id do as he says.Id scrub my hands madly like Lady Macbeth,But blood wont stop spilling from my unwounded hands.Id look at him sadly with fear-filled eyesAnd he