Mona Lisa

Living in a plastic fantasy. 

Living in a dollhouse, playing reality.

Painted to be a new identity.

Don't smile, don't see, don't hear, don't speak, just pose.

That's the new trend I suppose.

Life is a runway, walk down the aisle,

all in line, single file.

You walk it once, in someone else's style.

Don't smile, don't feel, don't love, don't give, just pose.

That's the new trend I suppose.

Am I beautiful?

Am I wonderful?

Or am I the usual?

A puppet on display.

Entertain them on the runway.

They just want beautiful, a silent play.

Don't smile, don't breathe, don't think, don't live, just pose.

That's the new trend I suppose.  

You're a canvas, they paint you all. 

Serve them to their beck and call. 

Walk, don't hear.  

Pose, don't see.

Turn, don't speak.

Beautiful. 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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