That statue of a girl, with the broken fingers and waste at her feet, the one that’s been standing for as long as I can remember, with artwork on her face and droppings on her shoulders, has wept for many years and no one ever cared.
Passersby look at her presence in disgust; after all, isn’t she just a marble eyesore? No one wants to see the sadness in her face; they don’t want to read the legend on the plaque.
It is not their business to care about a statue, carved to be sad for the rest of her days. It is not their business to know why she’s so sad, or to look at her at all.
in like 2 hours i'll look at this again and feel embarrassed.