His lips were pressed against the metal ones of the statue,

He is willing the statue to respond,

His fingers grapple the shaped strands of the statue's stone hair,

In his mind it is soft, flaxen, silken,

When he can finally bear to open his eyes,

And try and see through a mist of dead hope,

He stares deeply into the metal eyes,

That at first glance look unfeeling and cold,

But when you look deeper are silently screaming,

Crying out,

A girl imprisoned in metal and stone,

Locked inside, her sould shall rot alone.

The End

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