~ A Cold Statue ~

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Shall I be unhappy?

Or shall I not?

I lie, face down on a bed of feelings,

that has come to smell and rot,

from the lies I've giving and got.

I feel like stone,

moving but going nowhere,

speaking but with no voice,

I am there, I know that,

But its only an image, a carving of me,

A place where I happened to mark history.

The me who moves and speaks,

who is warm and human and real,

with a concience and emotions,

yes, me is gone,

somewhere hidden in a darkness,

that is more than darkness.

Sometimes I try to find me,

and the happiness me can bring,

but I'm blind now, deaf now,

I can't see and I can't listen,

for signs of hope and the familiar that might come,

No, when me left, she took them away,

and left a cold statue to stay.

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