Objects


What could I be?
A teddy bear or a toy doll?
Perhaps a puppet or a paper plane?
Or maybe not a toy at all.

Maybe I'm your television,
Just for your entertainment.
Or maybe I'm a ring,
Hoping for engagement.

Looking into my eyes,
You can see my frustration.
But everywhere else,
You only see my so called, 'elation.'

The way you see me,
Even just with a glance,
The object I am
Depends on what's in your pants.

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