Mannequin at Midnight

Mannequin hand
Photo by Pixabay on

Wooden eyes

don’t cry

solid hearts

don’t ache

but I’m no mannequin

without will to move my hands–

I’ve got blood

and blinking lashes;

my head is a thundercloud

dripping to the ground,

shouts and tears and flashing gazes

still ready to take the forest down.

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