I am a marble statue,
Reigning over the mortals,
My smooth, milky skin cracked as the decades passed.
I am made of Earth, but I am dying.
I am a giant.
It is I they fear and love.
They worship the artist but forget to care for the art.
My eyes are covered in moss.
Pieces of me are falling away.
Mortals come and go looking up at my deteriorating body.
None of them offer solace.
Now, as time moves forward, I am strained.
Will I ever be healed?