Hugging old stuffed animals
Brings one back to times
That were simpler, kinder.
Living free of the burden of
Carrying the weight of everyone's
Unrealistic societal standards.
Stuffed animals will never judge;
Never ridicule; they listened
When nobody else would.
Once waking each morning happy,
The youth and light within your bones
Has grown heavy, dull.
Your youthful magic has faded
Into nothing more than a
Memory lost in time.
That priceless, palpable happiness
Slips through formerly eager fingers
With far too much ease.
Simplicity is dead;
The cumulus clouds that we call
"Challenge" hover above us.
An old stuffed animal,
Once loved and cherished,
Sits, forgotten in a dust-ridden box.
An old stuffed animal
Never to receive another hug;
Its magic vanishing with every second.
Time is the thief you cannot banish.
Fading, forgotten. Collecting dust.
Lonely. Forever forgotten.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
شِعرI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
