The Toy Makers Favourite

I sit in the corner  
Of the closed toy chest    
Staring at all the toys    
Their glassy eyes    
Once shinny    
Are now dull and void    
I try to reattach my limbs    
That are hanging on    
With an inch of string    
   
The box opens    
And in reaches a greedy hand    
Grasping for a play thing    
To rip apart    
I tremble in the corner    
Whimpering in pain    
   
All the toys hold their breath    
Begging to not be chosen    
This is like a game of Russian roulette    
We’re all breathless and frozen    
The hand grabs an older toy    
Who long ago gave up    
They don’t struggle anymore    
They just accept    
   
The toy is dragged out like a rag doll    
And the toy chest lid is replaced    
We all sit holding our breath    
Waiting for the toys death    
A shrill scream transcends    
As the older toy meets its end    
The lid pops open again    
As the hand reaches in for a toy again    
   
The fingers clasp around my arm    
I try to resist    
But my threads    
Are about to rip    
The hours fall away    
As my mind floats away    
   
My mind stares    
Through the cracks in the window pane    
At the falling rain    
The droplets are tear shaped    
Glistening and clear    
Until they meet the pavement    
Where they shatter    
Into pieces    
   
Gentle blue eyes    
And soft blonde curls    
He’s made me in his sweethearts image    
Just to break me    
Again and again    
Then he’ll stitch me back up    
And beat and beat    
Until my soft cotton heart    
Doesn’t beat  
   
The toy maker pins me down  
Causing my edges to fray  
He whispers in my ear    
“Oh sweet doll, it’s time to play.”