flocks of grey people always pass my view.

They pause to stare but never say hello.

tired of frayed dreams, they want something new.

I fill their emptiness, from head to toe.

Denim shorts, leather jackets, or silk dresses,

They reinvent me in turn with each season.

Standing here with a void no one addresses,

I search for a real purpose, a reason.

A glass isolates me from the outside;

I envy the tulips across the street,

or the young finches sitting on branches with pride;

They change while my life is on repeat.

For my audience, I'm the idol with no error,

But I am just a mannequin in the mirror.