The Giant Toybox of Broken Hearts

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What am I to you? An object of amusement. A prisoner of war?

Captured fighting in the Battle for Love: Just another doll in your giant toy box prison.

Smash, smash, smash. What's that sound?

A clockwork monkey prison guard banging his cymbals?

The banging of brass on brass, true, but something else, something more.

You took me out, ripped and tore at me. At the stitches that once held me tight. Moving methodically to the place you knew my heart lay.

And when you found it, which you inevitably did, you ripped it out.

You were deaf to the other sounds around and blind to all emotion, it seemed.

But how could you not hear my tears or see my terror and fright?

Why? Why was I so stupid? Why had I been so dumb?

I knew what he was, and I knew his kind. I knew there was no point fighting.

Once he came to me, I would be lost. I knew what he would do. I knew how it would end.

But still! Why'd I let myself get caught in it? Trapped in an ambush of sweet talk and lies.

I was paying for it now. I was hurt: my heart was broken: my eyes, from crying, were numb.

Ripped and broken beyond repair, I know where my final resting place lies.

In the dark, giant toy box where living despair, to horrors gone un-noticed by normal eyes.

I won't ever be able to live again: I'm all made up of broken parts.

I live and suffer with my pain, in the giant toy box of broken hearts.