Notes: this is probably one of my most analyzable poems.
when i was younger, i used to fear mannequins,
their haphazard grasp at humanity.
now, though, i pity them,
ill-fitting garments in yellow and misted blue,
uncanny valley in sandy beige, candy colours:
a grand feel of apathy on stage.
blank faces, little liked by lasting light,
i pity them. how must it be to be set out
for a purpose
with no choice of aught else?