Shooting A Teddy Bear Poem by Ronald Speight

Lining up the barrel to his chest
I wonder what I did to deserve this
All my effort was to provide you

With rips in my seems
And a missing button I must
Be to broken for good will
And to valuable to throw away

Why are you so eager to destroy
What little of me is left
Please, tell me why do you
Stand with your finger
On the trigger?

Bang! Is the sound of the end
I search myself to notice
You missed but to know
You were ready to do such
Is a shot in its own right