Statues

The essence of being, the form of formThe shape of ourselves withinThe mark of who we are, our mask to the worldThe evidence of who we've beenWe fill these shapes by being ourselvesYet the world requires shapes that are knownTwo forces that mold the clay of your beingTo sculpt the mask that is shownTo top off that fact of societal interferenceWe push upon the clay of othersWe shape the statues of those close to usMake our mark upon another'sTo allow someone else to distort who I amIs that such a point of contention?I don’t mind the touches of another’s idealAs long as they’re within my comprehension