TOYS

I wish you'd stop.

I wish you'd let me be.

That prick that you stick into me

hurts and burns and contains, is my bane

hear my plea, make me free:

stop sticking your pins into me.

I no longer wish to be your rag doll

damaged as you see fit.

This is not the fate I sought, I wish to quit it

and run away from this pit of pain

where you care for me not one whit.

I wish to go, I hope to split.

I am not your voodoo prize

which you cut and abuse

with your words and your eyes

and your hands and your lips

and the things you surmise about me

give me liberty, or give me death.

No more lies: can you make me free

or make me die?

I just want to be away.

I want to cease.

I hope you'll give me some sort of peace

from endless torment - give me a piece

of quiet, or else one I shall seize.

Whatever you do, give me release!

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