Mannequin

Mannequin

You’re beautiful,

they say, but

they’re all lying.

Your soul,

your body—

they’re all buying.

Behind the masks

of guilted shame;

under the knives

that stunt and maim.

Scrape away

cosmetics and

plastic smile,

that slips

when choking

back the bile.

Sobbing out the

strangled fears.

Squirming from

encroaching years.

Searching for praise

in devil leers.

Poor girls,

poor girls,

stick thin, too fat.

Laid bare across

the welcome mat.

Crying—their mascara

runs.

Crying—for a world

undone.

I'm sure everyone has felt this way at least once in their lives.

Like everything's warped and nothing's sincere and the expectations are just too much.

Don't let them win.