The Perfect Statue

I walk among the statues In the halls of the master's art Where all that is beautiful is put They are perfect almost as if you walk to up to them and talk and be answered by them every time they are seen it seems they have moved slightly I am amazed and bedazzled by these statues Meet the sculptor and ask how he could makes such beauty He looks me up and down and says I will in fact you can help with my next one I am delighted and agree to help with enthusiasm he takes me to a back room And tells me to close my eyes I do so and wait to find out what happens next I hear strange noises he tells me to open my eyes I open them he then tells me to strike a pose I do A fierce and manly pose he then pulls a lever Im covered and a strange gray goo I try to move to yell at him And find I cant move my body is paralyzed He then breaks out he's sculpting tools and slow scraps off bits of the goo And then he calls out two big movers they pick me up And put me on a display and know I now why the sculptures look real