Lost Toy

A short poem, which tries to sum up the feelings of rejection and loneliness by thinking about how a toy would feel once it's owner no longer loved it. But of course, poems are about interpretation, so none of that particularly matters.

All but silence,

A mass of foliage,

Vegetation rotting,

Fetid odour.


So calm, so many hidden secrets.

A gathering of rubbish;

Bottles, sweet wrappers, unwanted leaflets.


Like second-hand goods

It stands up and walks, but softly,

Its footsteps barely visible.


How could you do this to me?

It whispers; words caught by the breeze.

Where is my home? My bed?


Too cold to speak.


Raining as it does,

The synthetic spheres that marked its face;

Peering, dominant, erringly scary,

Dripped tears.


Its matted fleece,

Its cold, cold face,

Its dead mind.

The End

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