What do you feel when you are statued in a moment that will not open up?
Stone footed and carved into a shape that you want to change for the better.
A plaza that the people walk by and admire while ignoring the pedestal.
No time for the words scribbled that tell of your story, you are only object.
Lips that will not give up secrets and eyes that seem stuck in happiness.
What vision will you set your sights on, mine will be the blue or dark sky.
Chiseled choices holding me tight like I would like from more than pigeons.
The marble look shines and shows reflection in polish and the pores sealed.
That correct, the form they see, the shape you have taken, or been given.
Do you make that choice or does just one who controlled you in your path.
Rough, are you cut from the mountains or plucked from a piece broken off?
© Jeph Rants
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