You know I'm just there, pondering...wondering,
It's like I imagined a world where I could roam,
Seeing all the damage I dealt and received,
A room of statues where the final hit is carved.

As I walk by them they scream the last words said,
Each scream is like a cut that lacerates my skin,
Their heads move to follow me even as I leave the room,
I can sense the pulse of the statue's heart thumping fiercely within.

In this haunting gallery, my sins on display,
Frozen in time, they beg for release, for grace,
Their eyes beseech, their silent please on replay,
Trapped in this nightmare, they can't escape this place. 

There's a place to recover, I  know of the building,
It's currently under construction, but statues do reside there,
When I visit the place the statues are in pieces, the foundation intact,
I pick up the shattered pieces as my hands bleed, rebuilding my comfort

Slowly, the broken statues begin to regain form, 
Their agonized expressions soften, the pain starts to transform, 
As I breathe life into them with every piece I restore, 
I feel their gratitude, their suffering I can't ignore.

I sit there once the job is done, in shock,
They share a common grace, the statue of sins, 
Once etched in stone, begins to fade and blend,
With the figures seeking forgiveness, side by side, they mend.