Scribble Express.

THE MANNEQUIN (I). Though at times I want to dress in green, But as my built says, Obedient is what I have always been, And I am known as the Mannequin. I am the one who observes you all bit by bit, You come to our home, And by silence is how I greet. I see faces and faces all day long, Some tired,some exhausted, Some happy and some in gong. Every day, every hour,  and every minute the faces change, They flashed and went and flashed and went. But once by a glimpse, I remained startled for a moment, The feeling emerged in me, Felt like my biggest achievement, It was a face unknown, With sharp noticeable features, He went to the side departments to get the purple covers. Though always the faces came, went and altered, This was the time when just one face mattered, I so wanted him to enter the department of clothes, Where I was standing eagerly waiting, And this one thought of not being able to see him again kept me bothered. When my tickling sensations

YOU! You know what is it, You know how is it, You know how that works, You know how it goes. You know it already! He has set it in you, The ability to know. You are aware, Better don't pretend. You know they are going to judge, The world is a stage where judges always may not be even, Some mean, some gross, Some exact and some overboard. But you know that this world is diverse and are diverse the thoughts and talks, So let them say, But leave no space for you to be provoked. You laugh, You laugh at yourself and there it goes minimized in others, You play around with self and you leave them with zero gap to dump you out. You criticize you, And you leave them the thinnest strand of talk to find, Then you may see the pleasure is actually divine, Crushing without crusher, Firing without bullets, Cutting without knife, But still there is pain. WORDS! They are stabs of scars irremovable. They are marks of the devasted land they leave. If they say, Do