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every statue carves itself a pedestal

 

 

 

 

 
Chisels name
her second face mysterious. Cold.
So a moon trades flesh for marble
and the patriarch calls it art.
 
Proud fingers gasp for air-
this space,
shaped by her sisters' judgement.
 
 
 

 

 
Her stone gathers blame,
and the artist, none.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author notes

Word Count: 40

Edits: 3

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Comments


  • markgrif gold member
    May 12

    Edit | Reply
    It's very beautiful. You have spoken truth here eloquently. Your style is amazing to me.

    Thank you for sharing.