A stir in the night, my fingers are missing.
No blood nor severed flesh, but their spirits fizzing.
The muscles flex, they still move, but it’s all wrong.
Witching hours vexed me into a desperate ploy of massaging.
The means to escape into fanciful worlds at the click of a mouse.
The most important tool for my calling, the one which will carry me to glory.
The instrument that plays the keys that forge these tales
– gone.
Broken.
What meaning do I have without these hands?
A dreadful nightmare forever haunting me.