I am but a plaything. Just a disassembled toy. I am but a play thing for this wild, rambunctious boy.
He picks me up and plays with me, when he's bored or blue. Then puts me in the corner and looks for something new.
I am but a plaything in his eyes too, it seems. For he is mine and I am his. But only in MY dreams.
"What's wrong with me?" I ask, "How could you want more?" He engages my body and mind just to leave me there.... A crying mess.. in a crumpled heap upon the floor.
I am but a plaything. I guess I've lost my shine. I am but a plaything who has somehow passed her prime.
"I'd do anything for you." I tell my wild boy, "If you would just care for me. Not treat me like a toy.".
"You are but a plaything.", he whispers, as he scoops me off the floor. "You used to be my favorite, but I wanted something more".
"I still keep you here...at arms length, because you fill my every need." Some would say he does this out of selfish greed.
"If you have something new, why not let me go?" "Because you come every time I call and your pain... It intoxicates my soul."
"If I am but your plaything, why should I exist?".. "It's unfair to make me long for your touch...a gentle kiss."
"You are but a plaything. You knew this from the start. Now, nevermind these strings as I clip them from your heart."
I am but a plaything. What's my true purpose for? I fear I'll always be but a plaything... Nothing less. Nothing more.
