The wick is fading, and I have no matches left
In this dark abyss where I sit depressed
My valiant heart has become a perch for crows
Smile shaped in stone
Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul
My arms depict a grasping hand
Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know
Trapped in the heart of a withered artist
His mad dealings mold and make me
A victim of his musings
Crafted in a candlelit madness
Delicate delusions and vague allusions
To courage in the many veiled faces of death
Carved and set at the base of the steps
Statuesque

Hiding on my own
My face is no longer stone
My emotions are now clear and shown
The things I feel to the bone
Have only grown
When I'm alone

Was i a stepping
stone? A little r
                            o
                             c
                           k
                             to get where you
                        are now? Perhaps
                        that must have been
                        fun...
                             ­                                 Maybe our definition
                                                      ­        of fun do not compare
                                                         ­     to be the same now -
                                                                ­                                                          
I used to have fun when
you would be around,
maybe for you too...
but not in the same
way that I found.

They asked, "why are you as silent as a stone?"
She replied, "why should I be voluble as the Mynah? My heart and tongue are deprived of goodness just like a desert, deprived of a sea.
Another voice said, "Ergo, redundant talk comes with unbearable guilt."
They asked again, " if so, why do you not speak the despairs you hide?"
She replied, " Because, the gift of patience usually reigns.

I allow myself to be a sinking stone-
Settling in the bottom of the sea,
Encompassed in darkness.

I wait for a tide
To bring me to shore-
But it never comes.