100WC#36 by Clara
My breathing is stunted as I lie twisted in knots. My body is used as a symbol of peace. Little do the public know, that by making this sculpture of unity, a life has been damaged. Too damaged. I flash back to when I was created. The discarded lumps of sculptures that were not good enough. I shudder, thinking back to my innocence before I saw the lumps being thrown into an incinerator. Destroyed. Murdered. People stare at my husk of a body, remarking about the craftsmanship. However, they don't see the real me. They don't see the tortured soul.
My breathing is stunted as I lie twisted in knots. My body is used as a symbol of peace. Little do the public know, that by making this sculpture of unity, a life has been damaged. Too damaged. I flash back to when I was created. The discarded lumps of sculptures that were not good enough. I shudder, thinking back to my innocence before I saw the lumps being thrown into an incinerator. Destroyed. Murdered. People stare at my husk of a body, remarking about the craftsmanship. However, they don't see the real me. They don't see the tortured soul. 
Nice. I love this style of writing. It is hard to write as an inanimate object. Well done!
ReplyDeleteMr. M. (Team 100WC)
Bedfordshire, UK