Heart of Stone
Her skin is not warm, nor soft, nor pliant,
Its marble coats the flesh- Quiet. Latent.
Without arms, upon men she's reliant.
Her breasts unguarded, she stands in torment.
Upon a pedestal she dances, still.
Naive eyes widen, they point and shrill.
Her legs are heavy, she cannot walk
Away from the lurid eyes that stalk.
A bit of explanation: If you were not able to tell, this poem personifies the Venus de Milo. Like other works of art, she is vulnerable to judgment and scrutiny. She is mocked by everyone else, so lively and able to do as they please, but she is coerced to show off her body.
Her skin is not warm, nor soft, nor pliant,
Its marble coats the flesh- Quiet. Latent.
Without arms, upon men she's reliant.
Her breasts unguarded, she stands in torment.
Upon a pedestal she dances, still.
Naive eyes widen, they point and shrill.
Her legs are heavy, she cannot walk
Away from the lurid eyes that stalk.
A bit of explanation: If you were not able to tell, this poem personifies the Venus de Milo. Like other works of art, she is vulnerable to judgment and scrutiny. She is mocked by everyone else, so lively and able to do as they please, but she is coerced to show off her body.
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