Mannequin

I feel just fine.

I feel kind of pretty,

Until I almost run into a

Tall, blond, sleek mannequin;

And even though she's plastic

I feel so insecure,

Like she's the Queen Bee

And I'm just an insignificant little hive-worker.

Why do they make them so perfect?

And how in God's name is that pile of plastic

Making me squirm?

And making me freak out, and play with my hair.

How is a mannequin making me feel so ugly

When its not even real?

I walk around her-

The mannequin,

And try to keep my head held high,

But inside I ache-

Why?

Because that plastic is so beautiful,

And I'm real, and I'm not that pretty!

I'm flesh and blood, she's man-made plastic;

Yet the comparison is obvious-

She wins.

I went into the store confident and joyous,

I left depressed and feeling ugly.

And just because of a stupid

Plastic

Mannequin.