The Teddy Bear

Is it lonely? Is it scared?
Sitting on the shelf like a seer.
He, my ever unhugged dear.

With matted fur he waits there,
His innards full of dust.
Glaring with beady eyes,
And his frayed sopping ears.

“Don’t ever be naughty,” said Daddy.
He always watches you: that teddy.
So, I stayed awake, in the dark,
Listening to mother’s muffled tears.
Mouldy he smells, since that day,
I stood upon a chair and tried
To drown him in a bucket.
He, my red-bowed despair.

Now new children see him
With the same horror, the same allure.
His grime filling their dreams.
That brown and nailless-fear.

Is it lonely? Is it scared?
This time there is no chair,
And the bucket is now a river.

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The Teddy Bear of childhood