Tears of blood,
From the sculpture's eye,
Running down its face,
In a painful reminder,
Of the suffering,
Of the past.
The pain of the sculptor,
Is the pain of the sculpture,
For they are one and the same,
Like two sides of a coin,
Or two halves of a heart.
The sculpture cries out its tears,
In a silent voice,
As it tells its story,
Of pain and suffering,
Of love and loss,
Of life and death.