broken toy;

I think I'm like a broken toy,
It's hinges all undone.
A tattered, shameful, horrible mess,
No longer any fun.

But don't you think that I was just so,
I came with events and joy.
I didn't just appear this way,
I was once the covited toy.

This didn't happen because of the makers hand,
It's what happened with life and choice.
I was used with greedy hands.
And was lectured to with a strong voice.

And with time and hurtful use,
I started to break down and become obscure.
Slowly I meant nothing.
I was just torture.

So I was put away.
Hidden from all view.
This all because of my mistakes,
No longer new.

And to this end I have become.
Abandoned and lost.
But don't we all become this way?
Undesired and then tossed?

This is not always so because of choice.
It's simply because of life.
People weave in and out,
Causing mayhem and strife.

So my advice to keep you "new",
Watch who's hands you choose to be in.
They mold you into their ideas.
And something horrible will begin.

Don't chase unrealistic forms of play,
Toys are different and used for many things.
So just watch yourself,
We can't all be perfect human beings.