No wool. No scales.
Just stone. Just pressure.
I can get an idea in my head
I can cut and shave into the rock
And make it something
I can make me something
I can create something
Maybe even something beautiful
Maybe even bring a stone to life
No wallowing over regrets.
Just losing fear.
I can turn nothing into anything
I can be anything
So who will I be?
Which is it better to be?
Michelangelo or His David?
![IMAG0088[1]](https://i0.wp.com/desperatelydespicabledrivel.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/imag00881.jpg?resize=900%2C1596&ssl=1)
For The VERSE: If these words left a bruise, you can find the complete collection of raw, dark poetry and psychological suspense right here, sweetcheeks:Click to explore
For SOMETHING WORSE: Enter my mind’s sticky labyrinth. Read full length dark dystopian raw stories and such by clicking the link, toots.Click to Scoop
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