Mannequin

I am coral surrounded by fish. Stationary among movement. They walk and they talk they look and they touch. I can only watch. I can't even scream as foreign hands undress me. Even Venus was drawn with tresses and nimble fingers to shield herself, while I bear Medusa's wrath without even having stolen a glance. It’s injustice to crave normalcy in the Uncanny Valley. To show them what they could be in a mirror they still call distorted. Yet I should be grateful. Unlike some of my kin, I still have my head.