CarnationsCaretaker

A Mannequin\'s Scars

Signs that led to the fall paved the path for a mannequin.
Their bright dance illuminated the dark, empty streets,
as the sky wept, its cold drops sliding off its pale skin.
Its shallow steps left marks that led to an abandoned shop,
filled with items many longed for—including many that the mannequin herself wanted.
Each day, an item would be given to those who yearn.
The smiles on their faces as bright as the mannequin’s plastic lips.
As each item was given, a part of her was lost, and the scars formed by lies sliced her pale skin.
Under the moon’s watch, the key to the shop of lies turned. Inside, the only light was the humble bulb above.
She sat in comfort in the corner, opening the requite drawer, her lips feeling warm.
Taking a pencil, she let it speak, as one of her scars ached and lightened.