I tried to be stone so I would be invincible to anything that came my way.

I wouldn't sway with the wind like tree branches do, or uproot completely when gale force winds blow through.

I wouldn't burn at the touch or fire and crumble into charred black dust.

I wouldn't freeze over in the snow, even if it covered me whole.

Mother Nature has nothing on your hands though;

You came at me with a chisel and hammer and decided to carve into my granite veins again and call me your personal masterpiece.

You carved yourself a niche in my stature and made me into someone dented by your meticulous hands.

You cut jagged edges and smoothed them round, ******* at every detail and feeling for bumps to smooth away.

I made myself stone so you couldn't get into me, not even if you tried.

Yet here we are with my carved heart and your worn chisel and hammer by your side.

You hit a little too hard this time and the cracks have already formed;

I can feel the wind blow through me and the snow settle into the cracks just waiting for the fire to melt it.

Someday you'll put the chisel and hammer down because working at stone like me is tiresome.

That, and by the end of all this I'll be broken stone around your feet.

Artists finish their pieces, and you finished me by hitting too hard and cracking me completely.