They have made a statue of us for all the pain and misery that can never be washed away.
We were the ones who never got what they deserved.
We were meant to survive when others live. Do they live,though?
Or is it one more puerile misconception?
Harassing thoughts of us trampled on and made to scrounge for food.
We were fools the day we let ourselves get born.

So many dawns and evenings passing us by, with us stuck and sticky with anguish and fear that we may die unfulfilled, unmade. So much space, and air wasted on us. We were innocent, incapacitated with our defective will to life. We were shells; beautiful and redundant in this painful harrowing world beauty. Where was the awe, the worship owed to all the pretty things created just for us? The sun smiled and our limbs shivered and shrieked out of weariness from the sun that only does as expected warming skins and things. A terrible understanding of our undignified, unsettling collection of hours, while our bodies gradually turn to dust.

We were companions of misfortune in our young tender years; disasters at every corner.Yet, we would imagine and dream a god dying for our sins and no one else’ s.
But between oceans, and lands; vast, painfully vast, we became strangers…