I am a stone – solid, darker, and distorted in shape, not necessarily smooth, but set in standard. My pace is consistently stationary, feeling the silent and peculiar waters flow against me. Out of every stone I seem to bring the most attention to myself, though I am rarely picked up.
Trampled in a herd of pebbles and other precious stones, part of me rubs off, scraping their surface. An accident? Maybe, but the past has been past. Even so, the occasional yet unending stream of water reminds each stone that it is present and unavoidable in direction.
The ones above who crush me underfoot may have intentions to skip me across the waters. To my dismay, I would sink further and further under pressure. Or they dare toss me against the others, insulting me, breaking me apart.
Contrary to belief of even nature’s wildest stones, you may redefine me, carve me because I am helpless. However, I, being a stone, propose another point of view. Consider my innocence and observe my appearance. Remember that I am solid and not easily managed. You may drop me, but I will still remain on earth.