My brethren by my sides,
cold like the soulless figures
of the turning points from how we came to be apart of the rockwall.

Grey:
Like the mud we were clawed from
by small, grubby hands
who want to impress mummy.

We were forged together,
forever stitched by the grey coat
of warm intentions that grow cold with Time's passing.

I bathe in the day,
Sun's rays overwhelming me
yet I never tan under her vicious bearings.
The night grants me clarity,
Clarity, my dear,
yet my pointless figure coldens at Moon's touch.

Then came Bulldozer:
his intimidating figure looming over with a groan of contempt.
He tears at our seams and breaks at our connections;
Forever left with nothing but a rockfall.