Witless Little Toy

All art, Other, Poetry

Witless Little Toy


Dearest Toy of Tragedy: You are no longer meant for me.
 
Rub away the loathing, folded over your sight.
Wash away what happened, that
 Remarkable winter night.

A landscape slowly rose; harsh with ups and downs.
Ominous-looking mountains, was built high
Above the sky.

So rubber-gloved hands of pity, gently filled up the holes.
All for their chance to see this;
The sight of a used up Toy.

Stitched up. Sterilized. Suddenly, paralyzed.

Foolish little toy, how could you not see?
They are salaried souls; they just take
 What they need.

So now open your eyes, O you Witless Little Toy.
Don’t ever let them drain you,
Do not give them that joy!

 

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4 thoughts on “Witless Little Toy

  1. Interesting imagery…and obviously from your initial comment…thought provoking…as Nielsen sang “you see what you want to see, you hear what you want to hear.”

    1. Yeah I totally agree about that. It is what you want it to be- right or wrong does not exist at all. My personal intention with the text, is not ment to be fully explained.

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