Crying since that monster took my toy,
I want it back to continue the sad play,
Soldiers dying losing their plastic legs,
But I cannot continue without my toy,
Blurry vision from tears, falling down.
Crying ever more calling sadly for ‘help’,
No one to reply then I walk to a corner,
Mr. Lonely is ever alone easily bullied,
None to care or grasp my hand and hug,
I silently shed tears in my little corner.
It has been over thirty odd years now,
And I have accomplished this and that,
With your side by mine my dear love,
Although I ceased expressing it to you,
For I became overwhelmed by sadness.
I became what you would call ‘rusted’,
Hence, I am ineligible to be with you,
I am in no need for worthless trophies,
Nor worn-out ink-stamped certificates,
For a sadistic figure did grasp my soul.
Under a century and still breathing air,
Rather fascinating to see myself gripe,
Although when listening to those two,
I might perhaps seem a decade younger,
Yet, I am still the product of this world.
No soul to bear my near-expired corpse,
As I shuffle into my bed in the coldness,
Sadness is a routine part of my nights,
That should be entirely fine, little boys,
For now I am a wrinkled little old man.
Thursday, 26th of November 2009