Confusion, abusing
underused.
Apathy is only a mean to an end
and it has served me well in the past.
Like a particularly sharp tool,
chosen with care, to sculpt and mold
the clay between my fingers
into something presentable for the world.
Who are they to judge what I make,
who am I to judge what my fingers shape?

A stoic face outlooks the world
shaped out of clay and sharp edges
contrasting on the face
just below the meniscus,
turns to soft and gritty
emotions boiling down the surface
of what used to be
a smoothly carved face.