Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Statue: An Original Poem by moi

In the middle of town
Stood a statue of stone,
But the citizens there
Wouldn't leave it alone.

It once portrayed beauty;
In peace it once stood,
Until one passerby
Said, "It's not so good."

She picked at its detail,
Then she took out her file.
She rubbed and she scratched it;
She destroyed with a smile.

For a while people thought
That the woman was mad.
They thought she was crazy,
And her marring was bad.

But she convinced a friend
He should come help her out.
They kept on destroying;
They planted seeds of doubt.

Just one piece at a time
They kept whittling away.
They watched as dust piles formed
And its lines became gray.

The good people in town
Were outraged and upset.
They tried to protect it;
It wasn't destroyed yet.

Then slowly but surely
Its protectors turned mean,
Took sides with destroyers;
It's like nothing you've seen.

More and more began to turn,
Began to use their files.
Just a few protectors
Couldn't stop acts so vile.

Day by day the dust pile
Grew more upon the ground.
The statue's points were dull;
The corners now were round.

Slowly now they watched it
As dust it soon became.
To some destruction hurt,
To most it was a game.

Now all that remains
Is a lonely withered rock.
It's nothing like it was;
It's something that they mock.

Its beauty is no more,
Image is diminished.
The things it once stood for
Now, at last, are finished.

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