The Toy

You played him with pleasure multiples times over;
Turn the key and have him play the symbols for you,
But this monkey has reached his final smile
And is breaking his symbols to run out on you.

Man’s best friend has become your worst.
You’ve beaten the dog too many times.
He’s unleashing inner torment and lashing back,
Bearing his fangs till he clears the threshold.

Like the expended monkey and the abused dog,
I am on the run from you, as you’ve played me the same.
Know that my key is stripped and unable to be turned,
I am the leader of weary monkey and revengeful dog.

Get on last look at your toys,
Un-loyal and free of your torment.
Only a single tear in my eye,
It falls to the ground as cold heart turns away…

And unleashes the beast you created,
Originally for you own maladjusted amusement.
Now you realize how abuse and neglect affect open hearts.

by Robert L. Bixler III

Other poems of BIXLER III (69)

Comments (3)

Yeah, it's not a great one.... It's one that I wrote in 6th grade.... I just started throwing up some old stuff for randomness.... I wanted to see how much I've progressed.
It flows just fine. It's just not very compelling. That's all.
I can't really suggest how to improve this, there is really no flow at all, but it isn't prose either. Keep trying.