Mannequin: A poem

Mannequin, high on the stand,

Sweet green liquid coats you from 

Your heart to your brand

A facade with no visage - 

Your heartbeat played like a drum,

the sticks in someone else's hands

Your life is a movie - written by a team

To shape and mold the dreams

of those who look from outside the window

So dance and sing and dance and sing

and be the goal they'll never achieve

and maybe you can reap what you sow

Look at you, you look fantastic

The skin of your face replaced with plastic

You're not sick, you need no medicine,

for at the end of the day, you're just a mannequin

(This poem is not to be redistributed by anyone but myself without MY SPECIFIC PERMISSION)