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A Broken Toy

Not one wants to play with the broken toy
For the broken toy provides little game
I learned of that when I was just a boy
And grew up with that thought just the same

The toy knows not it's own dishevelled state
Only the innate urge to be played
But the broken cogs seem to seal its fate
And the dreams of fun slowly seem to fade

I crave the company of those who yearn
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Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: sonnet
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