At first I was loved,
when I was brand new, every
one wanted me. They
couldn’t get enough, constantly
turning my handle to hear
the music and some would dance.
My music would play as some
sang along. My head would pop
out. Some might scream and
others would laugh. Only now I am
forgotten, alone on a shelf,
abandoned in a box. Having no
where to go, surrounded by
darkness. No one hears my silent cry
because everyone else is
having fun on the outside. Now
I’m lost and forgotten. I would do
anything, for just one person
to turn my handle, so my music
would play, for one last time
and I could see a face and
be out of this dark box
I have begun to call home.
