Statue

Upon a marble pedestal stands my statue of plaster. The statue is like "The Thinker" in his most thoughtful pose, but mine looks off into the distance. My man of fake marble thinks of nothing as he stares off into the vast museum of my hollow art.

I take my chisel to his chest, but the strike of my hammer is too much. The statue cracks at the center showing a golden light. I peek inside to only feel the light burning my eye. I step away and watch as my work begins to crumble and fall the the ground. The fine white powder and larges chunks cover the floor. I look at the marble pedestal to see the marble still intact. There are hills and valleys molded perfectly into the marble from where the statue had tried to form to it.