I am not a Sculpture!


I am not a Sculpture!
An intricately moulded master piece,
Made from moist clay laid on batter board.
A shape of a majestic beauty,
Defined from a moving hand of an artist.

I am not a Sculpture!
A strong piece of art barbequed in fire,
To be able to pass any obstacle in Life.
A detailed art, formed through continuous nailing,
To fit in the society of judgements.

I am not a sculpture!
With despaired vision until placed in the right spot,
Letting the carrier decide my destiny.
With body decorated with rare stones,
I am just a point of attraction.

I am not a sculpture!
Bided for Millions of Dollars,
To be displayed in the National Museum of our country.
Left to be scanned by owl like eyes in the real world,
For pleasure of owing an ivory.

I am not a sculpture!
Wiped hard every day by the caretaker with an excuse of cleaning,
Pours away frustration in the assigned job.
Touches my private parts with an authority,
Making me feel insecure of what my life would be.

I am not a Sculpture!
Displaced to the donjons,
Because i am ugly, rugged and old now.
Forgotten, I have become just another story,
Whose absence wouldn’t be felt as would be replaced by another body.

I am not a Sculpture.
Breaking the silence I will raise my voice.
I won’t let others hands shape me according to there wants.
I won’t leave my body to the burning death.
I won’t let others decide my destiny.
I won’t let others put value on me.
I won’t let others use me.


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