I slit the mannequin's throat
To watch her pretty blood spill
In hopes of channeling the beauty that she contained.
I let my spidery fingertips
Trace her perfectly proportioned body
And ride along beautifully formed curves.
I embraced her gently,
And ran my hand through her golden locks,
Stared deep into her depthful eyes to find nothing worthwhile.
I dissected her limb from limb
To see how her inner workings ticked.
Those blank, wide eyes and thick, full lips
And her face void of intelligence
Had haunted me for far too long.
I lit the match and watched
As the materialism dripped off her like wax from a candle
And the flames consumed,
Charring her alabaster-spun complexion
And marring wonderfully orchestrated expressions.
I wrapped the last silk strands of hair ripped from her scalp
Around my fingers, to breathe in her scent whenever.
To hold the memory of my torment forever.
I tore down the superficial wall
Erected to keep me out of a land of wonder and awe,
And found that freedom and happiness and beauty still eluded me.
I slit the mannequin's throat, you see,
And left her good and dead,
But even now, she still haunts me.

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I was really quite reluctant to post this, but whatever. I kinda like it. And yes, I know I can't rhyme worth a shit, so I don't even try anymore.