Molding

Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Current mood: artistic

I consider myself clay,
Someone is always trying to mold me.
I'm a part of their ceramincs.
They spend hours sculpting me into their masterpiece.
Everytime I have an error,
They pound on me, use water and a sponge to smooth away the edges.
When finally finished they throw me into the fire.
Sitting in this oven, hot and dryed out.
I can no longer move and mold myself.
Comming out of the oven,
Waiting to be painted of glazed.
A vision of someone elses masterpiece,
They never wanted me to be the clay.
I wans't allowed to be my own art.
When I break, They realzed that they wasted their time, juding me as if I were thier own piece of art.
That's something I was never meant to be.
I'm sure he would agree.