I sit there, on the top shelf
A toy collecting dust, no longer
Holding any fascination to the
Child who once played with my
Flowing locks.

Once, there was love there, found
In those deep soulful eyes. Yet, now
As I stare out through my glassy
Tinted windows, my soul decays in
The most tediously slow fashion.

I remember those days in the Sun,
When all seemed right and there
Never dwelled any pain deep inside
This aching heart. But, now, I
Weep silently, in darkness, covered
In dust.

To be someone's toy once more,
Know the love I so adore, I linger
In dreams that haunt the mind.
Middle of the night screams as
Ravens pluck out my misery.