A Broken Toy Part 2 Poem by Paula Glynn

A Broken Toy Part 2

A broken toy sits on the floor,
Violence never to ignore,
A broken toy on the floor,
Games of children,
Playing their fun games,
Sometimes cruel games,
Their innocence,
At their behaviour,
With no shame,
But a broken toy,
Playing the devil's game,
And trick white light,
A broken toy,
Unable to fight,

A pirate patch on one eye,
Stitching across the face,
Bruises along the arms,
And legs bent,
Broken and torn,
Like the games of children,
Surrounded by other toys,
All waiting to be broken,
To be pulled out,
From the rubble of toys,
Throughout history,
For the pile of broken toys,
Does never end,
Children to play their games,
Parents on whom they depend,
And niceness pretend,

For all children play,
With a broken toy,
No matter a little girl or boy,
The joy of the toy,
The children do enjoy,
And forever hold memories,
Cold hearts they have,
The toy still broken,
Still with the eye patch,
For a toy like a fish to catch,

And when that fish is caught,
Lessons will be taught,
A broken toy,
Still broken,
No matter girl or boy,

And girl and boy grow up,
To believe they have all the luck,
Not knowing karma,
To be a boomerang,
Although not to burn,
For they are the future people,

And that broken toy,
Will one day celebrate,
With the confidence of a president:
With happiness, bliss and utmost joy,
Having been a broken toy,
To laugh and joke,
With every girl and boy.

Wednesday, January 8, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: bullying
Paula Glynn

Paula Glynn

Essex, Britain
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