Chiseled State of Mind

I am a statue

My limbs, chiseled rigid

Marbled eyes convulsing

Anchored in time and space

The laws of certainty

Don’t bend for me

I wish I were fictitious

Yet I am bound to reality

Cynicism was easy to succumb to,

Birthing itself

From humanity’s faults

And found wrapped around

My impressionable mind

Thoughts molded from clay,

Hardened into stone

I don’t know whose thoughts are whose:

Are they theirs or my own?

So as the journey begins,

The story ends

I feel myself slowly chipping away

Pieces of my existence

Shattering to the ground

Until there is nothing to support the hope

Of being left uncondemned