Pretty Baby

Such a pretty face.

Mannequein-like.
A frozen expression of happiness.

You hair is always perfrect.
Your outfit has the right label.

Plastic Baby.
Bends to any shape required.
You always fit in.

There is nothing genuine.
Even your laugh has been planned.

You are a worm in a cocoon.
With every move, you entangle yourself, 
Until you are trapped.

But, the butterfly never emerges.
The worm just keeps spinning.

I don’t believe you can acknowledge,
Even to yourself
The real reasons for your actions.

All ends against the middle, 
so you never face the world alone.

It’s fun to watch you squirm.

Such a pretty worm.

Your measure of success is the depth of your tan.