I'm a user.
I hurt people.
I play with people.
They aren't toys to be held.
They aren't games to be played.
They do have feelings.
I am worth having feelings for .
It isn't just a joke.
Not everyone is out to get me.
Why can't I understand that.

Master’s toy
Wants to be played with
Oh, please, come play with me
I am yours
And only yours
I think that you’d agree

Pick me up
By my puppet strings
And watch me dance around your bed
Pick me up
And amuse yourself
I want a place inside your head

Master! Master!
Come visit me
Inside my little dollhouse
I simply long
To be your plaything
You’re the cat, I’ll be the mouse

Master! Master!
I get lonely
When I’m not held within your clutch
As your doll
All I have
Is constant longing for your touch

There’s one purpose
I am trained for
And that’s for you to enjoy
Forever conditioned
Forever enslaved
To be Master’s little toy.

you want to touch me
and grab me.
but I do not want to be touched.
you force me into believing
that you love me,
but you do not.
I want someone who
loves my mind,
my imagination, my dreams, my thoughts.
I want someone
who loves my personality,
my laugh, my jokes, my smile
I do not want to be treated as a toy,
I do not deserve it.
I am a human being,
with feelings, thoughts, and emotions.
Do not tell me how
much you want to touch me.
Tell me how
you would want to get to know me.
For I am not a toy—
do not think about treating me as such.
Pull my hair from out of my face,
wipe the tears from my eyes,
tell me you love me, if you do,
and do not make me cry.
For I am not a toy—
I am a girl.

You see-
Love likes to toy with your heart.
it loops your string around its finger
and drops you
with gravity as your guide
you plummet toward earth
only to be yanked back up unceremoniously
in a matter of seconds
the momentum works
against your former guide
as you rocket toward the moon
caught in its orbit
and brought full circle

Love drops you again
and the cycle repeats
you do flips and figure-eights
an act that awes gathered crowds
as you're exposed to their starry eyes
up and down, your heart goes
in all its fragility
beating as hard as it can
until either Love gets bored
or your string snaps

I was born out of fur and cotton,
With eyes that were shiny, black buttons.
From the store rack, I always watched the distant tree.
But one fine day, this little girl picked me.

My owner handled me with great care.
I was, after all, her beloved teddy bear.
I seemed to be her biggest comfort,
When she couldn't sleep or she felt troubled.

Years passed by and so did my time.
The little girl didn't need her teddy when she cried.
As I lay with the other toys in the attic,
I realized that my short life was quite tragic.

"Mr. Cuddles! Your child's best friend!"
But who's going to care about me in the end?
I played my part. I stayed with you.
But in the end this is what it came to.

Mr. Cuddles, the lonely one.
Who lies in the attic with his fur undone.
The cotton keeps falling out of his limb,
The once happy bear now lays grim.

                                                    -Waywa­rd❤