It looked like a bassinette at first.  Instead of a cradle, however,  it was a pedestal that her daddy constantly placed her on.  Then there was a rush of excitement and pride as the pedestal grew to the sky; but as it got taller and narrower it became clear that there was no way off without hurling herself to her death.  A pedestal, it seems, is just a different kind of prison cell.   

He streaked through the water and was honored by the entire world with medals and praises.  One after another, the gold discs were placed over his neck to the tune of his anthem and the adoration of his fans.  But medals aren't buoyant.  As the medal count grew, they pulled him down, deeper and deeper beneath the surface.  Fighting the weight that's pulling him down, he thrashes to the surface gasping for breath. But he's quick to go down again. Medals, it seems, are just another millstone around the neck if one is already drowning.

At first the articles were reviews; "An exceptionally gifted child," "Brilliant", "Talented beyond her years".  Then the ink dried for a season.  New articles appeared with a decidedly different tone: "Shoplifting", "Drugs", "Jail".  With time and pushy parents,the good reviews returned, but with all the same gossip interspersed.  She clipped them all and saved them in her scrap book and on her fridge. But in the end, all those headlines just make for a longer entry on the obituary page.

Tiara perched on her big hair, Vaseline toothed and slender, she was awarded her first trophy.  As she grew taller, the trophies did too.; double handled loving cups filled with a champagne so sweet she couldn't detect the arsenic lacing every sip.  Writhing on the floor as she vomited out her life, beauty lost years ago.

Dressed in their Sunday best, smiles that could light up Heaven itself, singing with the voices of angels, quoting chapter and verse.  "If only we could be like that family."   Yet every greeting of peace feels like a dementor's kiss, and every pat on the back is another chisel blow, shaping them into objects of worship they were never intended to be. 

 Gods of wood will burn, gods of stone will crumble, and gods of flesh and blood will die and rot.

But Lord have mercy on those who sculpt these idols.