A Broken Toy
There was a time I spied on a girl,
Playing with all her lovely toys.
Huddled outside, with no warmth or hirth,
I watched and looked on with coy.
She was oblivious to rain,
She was oblivious to kind,
She had no real reason to know,
Rich this little girl, to the real world she was blind.
I looked down at myself,
All dirty looking and plain,
Then looked back at all those lovely toys,
She wouldn't mind if I took another again?
As she ran out the door, storming with all her might,
I slipped through the window and snatched a broken toy,
And out again, I clutched it tight.