A solitary life

I stand alone
graced with a dress of steel
beams
propped, holding me up
face exposed to the elements
no blush ever graces my cheeks
my glow reflects
extends far
I am a solitary figure
alone
feeling naught
fraught with the stares
of the eyes of the masses
the pointed fingers
they talk as if I cannot hear them
sometimes nice
most times not-
I hear it all
and sometimes wish
I was graced with no soul
that way I would not hurt
yet I cannot cry
in those times I feel the need too
I stand alone
solitary life is my punishment
though I am not alone
I wish for a life
I will never have
a life with others like me
they exist, I am sure
in a scrap yard
or factory waiting for me