Statue of Me

Oppurnity reveals itself,

it appears right before my face.

My soul is jealous,

but my mind makes me stare and walk away.

It seems I have no pleas anymore.

In my heart, cares are no longer stored.

Now I stroll through life, always in a daze.

Locked and stuck in the winter phase.

Headaches come from constant anxiety,

but sense won't get knocked inside of me.

I've fallen into a day by day pattern,

nothing anymore can get me flattered.

On the outside it looks as though,

all my emotions are set to stone.

And it feels that I can't change,

this marble statue of me that's been made.

Correction, my statue is not made of marble,

that would be flawless art.

Instead, I'm the imperfect concrete,

imperfect because concrete still cracks and falls apart.