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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 09, 2018

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Submitted: July 09, 2018



I always thought that Fuzzy meant The softness of a teddy bear From your childhood, The one your parents still have With one button eye and ragged holes.

As you grow older, you realize That the teddy bear you once held as you were Sleeping at night is What you become, A beaten-down and dirty soul.

Sure, people may love you still and People may still care But they don’t seem to realize what’s Going on up there in your mind Unless they have it too, Buried in their Cemetery of Memories

It’s sad to think that We’re all alone when There’s someone out there who can Help us reach out and Talk when we’re feeling like That old teddy bear.

Fuzzy, raggedy, and Full of broken things But each broken thing Makes us all Unique.

© Copyright 2018 RayVan. All rights reserved.