Listen, Little Boy

I'm not just some doll.
Don't put me up on the shelf
and pretend that I don't exist
until the timing is "convenient" enough for you.

You hide behind such a thick facade
like nobody actually knows that
you're not so big and tough deep down on the inside,
are you?

You know damn well how much you meant to me
and did I even mean anything to you?
Or did you just use me for comfort
like the dolly I am, in your eyes?

You told me "you're so sweet and naive"
and laughed like it was something for me to be proud of.
Don't treat me like I'm stupid (and you do)
because I'm not.

I know at times, I may have been needy
but is asking for someone to say
"I'm here for you"
so much to ask for?

I'm sat there on the shelf as you ignore me
while I cry out for a friend
but yet, you come running to me
when your child-like urges take over.

You must think I am a doll
who's box read "Sexual gratification, guaranteed!"
I'm a pushover, I admit,
for your secretive longings of parental dominance.

I loan you my affections like a piggy bank
you broke,
leaving me with nothing.
It's not fair.

You must think I sound like a kid when I say
"It's not fair."
Isn't it ironic?
You are like a child in more ways than one, I dare not say.

Over and over has your dolly been used,
and I am worn out.
My fabric has frayed like the bindings on your wrists
as I scold you for being bad.

You may want me to take control
but you're really the one in control, here.
For you keep your dolly begging to be seen
up on the shelf.