I am at a loss (a sonnet)



A statue of metallic human shape,

posessing life and tongue of silver shine.

Adept and witty speech of gilded shine,

observant voice that no one could escape.

For praise, it sings of glory sans mistake.

For love, it weeps of shatered hearts that pine.

No matter what, it utters prose sublime.

A flawless pure facade without a scrape;

a sudden, hapless strike and it transforms

into a worthless stone of luster dull.

The sparkling words that flowed now meaning null.

A motley, helpless, flightless, song-less bird,

That single pleasing note it could not form.

A heavy, speechless tongue, a loss of words.

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