Each day I look down into the streets, watching all the
people scurrying by, going about their business. I know they can see me perched
high on top this building, but I wonder what they think. Do they think I am a
statue? Do they wonder why I am here? Cursed to live my life trapped inside
this hand. I wonder day and night, why did this happen to me? Will I ever be
free? Across the street, I watch the clock tower as time tick’s past, hours
turn to days and days turn to years.
