Blinds raised, sign turned,
A day more as a mannequin yearned.
In the window, I stand so still,
Wearing my plastic smile, a perfected skill.
A new mission unfolds with each season,
In this fashion world, I find no reason.
Strangers pass by, their comments sharp,
Too tall, too short, like a song's harp.
Their judgments on me, too vast,
They never ask, my preferences are surpassed.
Never queried about my desired dress,
Or the hues that bring me happiness.
Which jeans would fit me like a glove,
Do I need a jacket under the sun above?
In bikinis, do I feel exposed and bare,
No one stops to show they care.
Stripped naked before countless eyes,
Each garment forced, a painful guise.
The heaviest blouse, oversized,
Pinned and pierced, feeling despised.
I long to move, to dance, to feel,
Without causing others to reel.
To blend in with the festival's throng,
To sway to the music, feeling strong.
To dance with someone who sees me true,
In attire old, yet feeling anew.