I’m a toy,
Did you know that?
I’m not exactly old,
But entirely mishandled,
By a cruel former playmate,

I’m sat isolated in this toybox,
It’s been so long,
Since anyone played with me,
I’m the defective doll,
A workshop wouldn’t be enough,

Poorly put together,
Batteries running low,
A frayed drawstring,
Chipped paintwork,
Mental health blemish,

Occasionally a girl will take me out,
Filling this wooden heart with hope,
Only to assess the damage,
With often shallow eyes,
And disgustedly launch me back to my box,

I’ll remain in the dark,
In this mahogany cell,
And collect dust,
As any child could tell you,
Nobody wants the broken toy.

Comments
    • Osharlequin says:

      Thank you kindly!

      The Oldschool Harlequin

      • shauna says:

        Oooh my heart. An honest assessment of how people treat folks with mental health issues. I imagine that in itself makes it difficult to open up to others.
        My oldest daughter has had quite a battle with depression. Her husband stood by her, an amazing feat in folks of any age. He saw her through episodes of medication reactions, ups and downs in her depression, and they married a little over a year ago. They’ve been together for 8 years now. In that time, he has lost both of his parents (his mother died the day before their wedding), they both have graduated from college, and now both work as social workers for the same foster care agency (albeit in different roles and different offices). But
        what they have been through as a couple is more than many go through in many years, lifetimes even.
        And it all started on Twitter…Lol
        Take care of yourself. The rest will come if it is meant to. Keep writing!

      • Osharlequin says:

        What a fascinating and uplifting tale! Thank you. I shall keep writing. 🙂

        The Oldschool Harlequin

  1. Heartbreaking, yet beautiful poem.

  2. That is so sad!!

  3. creativeenvision says:

    Beautiful poem

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