If I could create my ideal mannequin
I would allow her to bleed and breathe.
To be humble when she is envied,
to never feel worthless
when devotion is not returned,
because she would sense the superior.
The awful would not come near,
for her poise would craft a wall
so tall that they could never peek over...

Her skin would be of porcelain,
her cheeks a rosy blush,
her eyes would be the modest of green,
that could not be defined until they aligned
with someone as sincere.
Her lips of pastel pink dye,
could not be kissed until they beamed.
And the gentleness of her little hands,
could only be touched by the finest.

This mannequin would not fall short,
for she would possess what we all strive for,
she would keep what we all give away.
And her eyes would tear only when
they crossed the bright sunlight.

If I could create my own mannequin,
I would make her everything that we all desire
a little more of heaven, and a little less of sin,
a little more of truth and a little less a liar.
This mannequin would have the eyes that could see,
A little more of what this world could be.