Perception is clay,

Emotion its sculptor.

Nerves shape reality,

A misshapen sculpture.

What do you do when it falls to the floor,

Shattering all that was invested,

Everything you knew before?

We are drawn to the pieces,

We can fix it, we'll say

We can't accept it's gone forever,

It's our lifes' Pompeii

For that sculpture was no Michaelangelo,

T'was no masterpiece.

The dyes that you used,

Were one sided lies,

The material? That marble?

A sight for sore eyes.

We hang on to sculptures in our hearts

With such ease,

Not realizing

We're hanging our bodies from trees.

Sometimes it is best to let go,

Give your effort no more,

Leave the sculpture broken up,

A shattered idol on the floor.
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