Clay Troll
My life is a sculpture made of clay,
Molded of the trials and triumphs of the day.
Break of dawn, shake the shingles and free,
Come dusk I'm cut into this statue and sleep.
Sunlight hits and clay cracks open,
Breathing the sounds and light seeps in.
Sunset, dusk is here - back in the mold.
No more light, frozen in time - the opposite troll.
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