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Exposed and stripped of your skin
In-between fat and thin
I found you without a head
Not alive. Not dead.
Like countless others on their stands
You had no arms or legs or feet or hands
Just pure simplicity
Despite unknown nationality and ethnicity
Undesignated caste or race
Still, I hallucinate an imaginary face…
A winsome smile with stuck-out tongue
Like a playful emoticon, neither old nor young
Not disquieted by the lack of hair or nails
The absence of grandeur and intricate details
No attempt to impress or be dressed up
Or hide behind perfume and makeup.

Why can you not sense me in front of you?
Less than an inch away with nothing else in view
Paralysed: you are not aware of anything at all
Not short. Not tall.
Just the right size to hold or squeeze
Will you not tell me how that feels, I beg you, please!
Never once spoken or wistfully whispered, it seems
No longing to let out coughs, groans, or screams
You continue to calm the eyes and be soft to the touch
And we will formulate a plan if things get too much
Parts of the world are dormant and silently snoring
Whilst others are on treasure hunts and busy exploring
Myriads of people trying to escape from their homelands
Fleeing to overcrowded beaches to stroll on the sands
So many experiences that one can taste, smell or hear
Depressingly, you stay in one spot throughout the year.

I was enthralled by you, no name?
No title: Mr, Mrs, Sir or Dame?
An innominate orphan, not even a mother
No sister. No brother.
Lacking language, gender, and a birthday
Nonconforming: neither straight nor gay
What is your faith? Are you religious?
People rapidly becoming increasingly litigious
Yet you show no interest in justice or political affairs
No money, fortune, or wealth to trade stocks and shares
You own no wallet or purse as you have no bag or pocket
Not even a picture of a loved one inside a locket
Stateless and without a flat, bungalow, or house
Not even an imaginary friend, partner, or spouse
Zero children from a figmental husband or wife
I could not have dreamed of such a lifeless life.

Predicting the future from the past
Prognosticate events you cannot forecast
Please share with me all of your favourites
No guilt. No secrets.
Undiscoverable records or an education
Unaware of the emotions during graduation
No degree: not had to give a single citation
Incapable of getting a qualification
Unable to recall stories told as a child
Lost nostalgia of times that were wild
Never lied to yourself when someone dies
The awaited breakdown with tears pouring from your eyes
Riots: you remained fearless without stress
Despite dominant pressures forcing the masses to guess
But did it cause you any worries or anxiety?
What about now, are you able to fit into society?

I wonder if you believe in evolution?
Abstruse matters riddled with convolution
Your internal composition is still not fully known
No cells. No bone.
Simply put, we start our lives as an embryo
You started differently and you do not seem to grow
So I have come to a speculative decision
That you were not formed from cell division
I believe arcane structures keep you together
And even during perilous and unpredictable weather
You remain composed and do not seem ill-at-ease
But so many around you are sick with disease
Unknowingly, you are dying through decomposition
And the lack of thoughts, imagination, and cognition
Increases my fears of you becoming obsolete
Even though you are no less well-crafted or replete.

You have no blood, sweat, or tears
Despite no one mentioning it once over the years
I look at your quiescent torso like a brain in a vat
Not skinny. Not fat.
So science holds no answers to your creation
The absence of a thumping heart creates fascination
Though know-alls may see it as an error or mutation
As an unforeseen complication within the population
Regardless of these claims of senseless ideology
I hope you can accept my apology
For directly putting you in the hot seat
It just confused me when I touched you and felt no heat
Unfazed by the thought of blood running through my veins
However, I shall not mention the caudal chains
We may be strangers, and you do not even have DNA
But I will free you and put you proudly on display.
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Submitted by coolstar1611 on August 16, 2021

Modified by coolstar1611

3:43 min read

Darshan Jay Mistry

Darshan Jay "DJ" Mistry is an Indian born creative person who grew up in Milton Keynes. Adopted orphan DJ grew up in a working class family. Although he did not complete high school, DJ studied music, drama, languages, computing and the sciences. Autistic, victim of bullying and suffering with mental health problems, work produced by DJ reflects on daily struggles and triumphs and he goes on to explore more abstract and unusual concepts. more…

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    "Mannequin" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 8 Dec. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/107196/mannequin>.

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