Oh Tortured Soul Poem by Martin Moore

OH TORTURED SOUL

What hidden anguish have you got?
With worry etched upon your face
Your uptight sinews in a knot
Hard, just like your black slate base.

Contorted frame of aged bronze
That seeks to hide the pain within
Come leave your pedestal just once
And bend and stretch those aching limbs.

Yet mounted in eternal pose
You cannot leave your lofty pole
As in your agony you froze
There to die, oh tortured soul.