Mourning Skies

The Sculptor

He was handed a chisel

And given a marble column

Told to make a masterpiece.

So he chiseled away

And day after day

He came closer to his masterpiece

But he became absorbed in it

We soon found

That he was no longer same

His carving became erratic

And distorted

And one day he cut it too deep

And it cracked in half

Out of it flooded his sanity

In tidal waves of fear and weakness

All that he was too horrified to reveal

Its last drops fell in crimson tears

And with his last breath

He apologized for his mistake

It happens more often than it should

To some it's the marble

To some it's their body