Set Solid

They pour it wet, a slurry grey,

and smooth it flat with silver tools.

It hardens up throughout the day,

ignoring all the common rules.

It locks the ground, it holds its shape,

no giving in, no soft escape.

My own thoughts start to feel like stone,

unbending, fixed, and all alone.

This new path gleams, a sterile white,

reflecting back no inner light.