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Statue
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Juvenilia Grey-stained moon fades in morning twilight
Fades in mourning twilight
Not even the sun can warm the hearts of men
Made of stone
I feel like a drifting hollow statue
No warmth on my blank face
Can't even catch the rays on my crumbled fingertips
All just fades to grey
Dwindles down to nothing
Can't feel
Can't weep
Nobody loves a statue
This is absolutely beautiful. Truly.
Your ideas always seem so origonal. I've been reading poetry for so long, I seems like I am reading the same things over and over. it is so nice to find an author who rights refreshing and completely origonal work. I like the concept here of being made of stone, like often people compare thier heart to stone.