Thanks, I hate it

You can Paint It gold as a wedding band. But it doesn’t shine in my hand. You can paint it red as blood. But it won’t flow. It makes a thud. You can paint it green as clover. But it only sits. It won’t come over. You can paint it wearing a smile. But it’ll not be happy – It doesn’t have eyes to look into mine. It doesn’t have a mouth to sing a note. It doesn’t have arms to hold me close. It doesn’t have feet to climb the mountain. I lost a man from this planet. He lives now under a slab of granite. Hard and gray as a stone. All that’s left of him are bones.