A Poem Toy

I don't have toys And I don't care for any of them either. Well no, I do. After the death Of my friend Dasvina Lee and I loved for a Baby doll. I asked to my mother if she could buy One for me with the next C.F.W.C.P. check. She stopped backward; and at first I got the idea she will be buzzing around The house looking for a cigarette butt 'Cause she has ran off cigarettes. And then she bent forward And stared at me as you stare at yourself out Into the mirror browsing your stomach Upon a hushed thought, and a human fist as a bad sword Like that, exploded: "Shutta **** off, stupid girl!" And then, right on, she pushed me. Like that, and she said, "Go and clean up this Mess! Now!" "You can play with yourself," she added Brutally, "if you're so goddammit lonely!" Though she never really made it so easy Just a sort of wet concrete admiration, I tried to smooth it, but the following was uglier: After a third try she hit me again. It was like a Thunder light, burning on the skinny body And at the same time it was running through a hybrid Shore between my soul and my heart. Leaving no doubt it was all what I'll get From her and the damned toy shall be called Off.