helium balloons

p: sculpture, girl

what are you still doing here, sculpture girl

stuck in little town, nothing

your dreams are a size too big for the middle of nowhere

and do you know your words create hurricanes?

have you forgotten that there are storms to chase and stars to gaze and that you are more than either one?

what are you still doing here, sculpture girl

where there is hot breath at your neck and poison ladled into your ears

where you crumble like poor architecture

this is the prison you chose, sculpture girl

where all art is subject to graffiti and weather and tarnish

what are you still doing here, sculpture girl

letting them prop you up on plastic pedestals posed archaically amongst their polluted thoughts

why do you let them make you, sculpture girl

with their diseased hands, molding and hacking and never ever satisfied as they chisel and contour

confusing flesh for marble and creativity for danger as you get it wrong again

why do you listen to them, sculpture girl

as you hear their smoker's breath wheeze that you're a work of art, babyand you freeze immobile because they tell you that you're a classic and how classics are timeless and that this now is forever

you, sculpture girl, are stone and they determine your fate with hammers and vision in mind before they've begun

why are you still here, sculpture girl

pretending to be as thick and unfeeling as rock

letting these false artists toy with your future and steal your essence with their predisposition

why are you still here, sculpture girl

pretending to be a work of art when you are so much more

don't you remember, sculpture girl?

don't you remember there are storms to chase and stars to gaze and you are more than either one

don't you remember that there are renovations and restorations, renaissances and bits to recycle

there are antidotes for poison

there are pedestals to burn and doors to slam and they were right-

creativity is danger

don't you remember that you can quit bad habits and that you are more than a sculpture, girl?

don't you remember that the world is clay that will never harden, sculptor girl?

the sky is plasma and you are not art-

you make it

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i love it when wattpad screws around with formatting!!!