Mannequin in a Makeshift Dress

There is a mannequin locked behind the glass.
She stares out at the streets
And watches the real people pass.

Hers is a makeshift dress,
Fabrics joined from high street and low.
She knows they call her a mess.

The other mannequins say nothing to her.
She doesn’t cry or laugh.
She just stands there waiting for her sir.

She stands vibrant and alive,
With that forever joyful smile on her face, but she
Knows the secret. She’s just hollow inside.

The End

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