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The statue moved— now he faces south. The statue is he because he couldn't move, Or statue he became because he stopped moving? He is a statue because he is dead Or is he a statue before he could die. Stopped Trapped Tied Captured in cement. He can get his eyes wet only when it rains, Rocks are his scarf and pebbles all he wears. Hundreds of years he is still with his spot, Thousands of couples, only he is to rot. Rovers come and they ask "What's his story, why is he there? Facing south." The young kids come and they ask, "He was a man, everyone loved him so he was saved just before he fell" "Fell? Where" He was bright so we had to keep him alive just before he could die, just before he took his last breath, We took his heart with our hands, and blew our breath into his lungs But our breath turned his red blood to shrink and blacken, he turned to ash crystal fragile almost like a rock. Decades slowly to halve and fracture We moved him to the outskirts when city life grew cold It became a dining spot a romance spot a never-ending knot a marriage court Years and years And suddenly it turned from north to south As if someone moved it we planted cement to his body where he could stand not moving again.
0
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 2:32 AM UTC
Totem
The statue moved— now he faces south. The statue is he because he couldn't move, Or statue he became because he stopped moving? He is a statue because he is dead Or is he a statue before he could die. Stopped Trapped Tied Captured in cement. He can get his eyes wet only when it rains, Rocks are his scarf and pebbles all he wears. Hundreds of years he is still with his spot, Thousands of couples, only he is to rot. Rovers come and they ask "What's his story, why is he there? Facing south." The young kids come and they ask, "He was a man, everyone loved him so he was saved just before he fell" "Fell? Where" He was bright so we had to keep him alive just before he could die, just before he took his last breath, We took his heart with our hands, and blew our breath into his lungs But our breath turned his red blood to shrink and blacken, he turned to ash crystal fragile almost like a rock. Decades slowly to halve and fracture We moved him to the outskirts when city life grew cold It became a dining spot a romance spot a never-ending knot a marriage court Years and years And suddenly it turned from north to south As if someone moved it we planted cement to his body where he could stand not moving again.
ankush
Written by
17/M
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 2:32 AM UTC
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