He sits on the shelf, cold and lonely.

No one wants him anymore

If only, if only.

His plans involve much gore.

He makes his move and jumps off

He lands on his face, poor boy.

He handles the cuts with a scoff.

There will never be pain, for he is a toy.

Running towards the door, his eye has popped.

He leaves it behind, he must keep going.

He feels the hurt now, it has not dropped.

The pain, clearly, is showing.

He makes it to the kitchen, reaches for a blade

But cannot hold on, he has no thumbs.

As quick as a blink, a new decision is made

He runs to the pool, his false heart beats like drums.

Drowning is out of the question as he hears a door open

He falls to the floor as though never alive

"Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear," says the now grown up Ben,

"This is where you belong, right here, by my side."

20 May 2010