Universe Crumbling

It must be hard to be a statue
weak by design but appearing strong
destined to crumble under a gust of wind
to the ground where they say you belong...

it must be painful to crack so easy
and carry those scars around for life
to have them split open at a word or breath
of wounded warriors fallen from strife...

even the weeping willow paints happy around you
where you are the saddest art on the scape
the crying clouds aren't nearly worse
even with visions of such a violent rape
where the moon screamed and blew the stars out
the sound leaped through, creating shards of glass
that shattered their eyes as they looked up
and fell to their demise upon sharpened grass...

one gust and you'll be just like them
falling hard and they won't catch you
the battle against looking up fought
and lost, willow and cloud fall distraught,
it won't save you to be a statue.